


The Pack Divided

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Civil War, Gen, House Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the deaths of Willam and Artos Stark, civil war erupts in the north as Stark kills Stark</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**226 A.L. Long Lake**

**Artos Stark**

The wildlings were pushing hard, they clearly were much more strongly united behind Raymun Redbeard than either Willam or Artos had first thought. As he brought his sword down again and again, severing heads from bodies, Artos could not help but curse Jack Musgood, the man was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and yet somehow he had allowed some 20,000 wildlings to scale over the Wall and cross into the north proper. That Lord Harmond had thought something suspicious about it all had been a boon really. Artos continued hacking and slashing his way through men, cutting them down to size, breaking them as though they were nothing more than flies, which when one took in Artos’ skill with a sword they truly were. The wildlings fall before him like flies, and he bathes his sword red with their blood, truly he wishes that the wildlings would learn that until they can muster at least basic discipline they will never stand a chance of conquering the north. He can sense the urge to break inside of them and that is what makes him swing his sword with even more urgency he intends to kill as many of the blasted idiots as he possibly can. He cuts through a big giant of a man whom he knows is called Toregg, Raymun’s second in command, he cuts through another wildling and then another one before he comes face to face with Darin Shape cutter a man who was once a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch but is now wildling scum. Artos growls and then begins hacking at the man they exchange blows backwards and forwards for some time, but eventually Artos’ superior skill with a blade means that he triumphs cutting through the man and leaving him in pieces, spurring his horse onto meet the next challenge.

He finds himself fighting beside his brother Willam, the Lord of Winterfell and a charmer and a great fighter. Together the brothers as they did during the Blackfyre rebellion that saw them both make their names, they cut through wildlings swinging their swords left, right and centre, cutting through the mass of savages with ease. It becomes so easy for them, that Artos finds himself  fighting on autopilot, cutting through men in a detached manner that his father had often described fighting as. He swings and they fall down to their deaths, no two ways about it, he swings and swings, and his sword is now completely red. Willam he notices is engaged in a duel with a red haired man, whom he recognises as Raymun Redbeard, Artos himself is faced with three opponents whom he deals with at the same time. He swings at one and takes his head off before the man can raise his axe, his swing makes it easier for him to defend a potential blow from a hammer, and he uses his strength to break that contact and then end the man with three swift swings. The third man, proves to be a tougher opponent, he swings and the man blocks, the man swings and he blocks. And so it goes for some time before eventually they are both battered and bruised and Artos manages to push through the fatigue to spear the man with his sword.

Artos looks up from the dead man in time to see Willam brought down low by a blow from Redbeard’s sword, and he howls as his brother doesn’t get up but instead blood continues to pour from the wounds he took. Artos spurs his horse forward, cutting down those men foolish enough to get in his way, and soon he and Redbeard are engaged in a duel. Swinging, hacking and slashing, swinging, hacking and slashing, they fight neither man willing to wield ground to other, the ground is covered with bodies and blood and still they somehow they both maintain their footing, before Artos swings and knocks Redbeard’s sword from his hands, another swing and Redbeard’s hands are gone, and then Artos kicks the man to the ground, and swings his sword once more and splices his head in two. He does not have long to enjoy the sense of victory for soon enough he is brought low and faints.

He comes too in his tent, his head hurts as does his body and he feels weak, weaker than he has felt for some time. A figure comes into view and he recognises it as his brother Donnor. He opens his mouth and manages to gasp out. “What happened?” before he begins coughing up blood.

Donnor a grim man is silent for a moment before he says simply. “We won. Willam died killed by Redbeard. But you slew Redbeard and once the wildlings realised what had happened to their famed king beyond the wall, they fled, were killed or were captured. Lord Harmond is dealing with some of them now.”

“What will happen to me?” Artos asks, he is not so foolish as to believe that he will survive tonight.

Donnor speaks once more. “Your wounds are too severe for us to consider moving you from here brother. And as such the maester believes that it might be best to leave you here until nature runs its course.”

Another voice speaks then much deeper than Donnor’s. “In short what Donnor is trying to tell you brother is that you will die here in Long Lake, and not in Winterfell like you so wished.” Errold, that was the voice, his youngest brother and the most conniving of them all.

“Errold enough. Have some respect, Artos might not be able to teach you manners in his present state but he will be around to remind you about this lack of them.” Another even deeper voice says, Brandon.

Artos laughs and more blood comes up. “Ah brothers, I have missed you, and I shall miss you. We all know I do not have long for this world. I just hope you will keep the north safe. Keep mine and Willam’s children safe as well.”

As he says those words he looks at his brothers and sees Donnor, Brandon and Errold glaring at one another and he fears that his words will not come true, there will be war he knows and the children will suffer for it. It is with these dark thoughts and not thoughts of his wife Lorra or their children Brandon and Benjen, that Artos Stark closes his eyes and dies on the 25th day of the fourth month of the 226th year after Aegon’s Landing, he was thirty three.

* * *

**228 A.L. Winterfell**

**Melantha Blackwood**

It was complete madness, why would they do such a thing she knew not? It had been two years since her husband and her favourite goodbrother had died during the battle of long lake, two years in which Melantha had done her best to rule the north in her son Edwyle’s name. Before today she had thought she was doing a good job, her son’s bannermen clearly respected her and respected her husband’s memory and so were doing all they could to ensure that peace reigned throughout the north. That was until the ravens had come pouring in today, her husband’s three brothers Donnor, Brandon and Errold had called different houses of the north to their name and were all calling themselves the rightful lord of Winterfell. The shock of it all had nearly been enough to knock her off her feet, she had always been aware that Donnor- grim and serious Donnor- had never liked her viewing as too southern to mean anything but bad news but Brandon and Errold had never treated her with any disrespect in fact they had always treated her warmly and fairly, as if she was one of their own. That they would now turn around and declare themselves Lord of Winterfell when the Lord of Winterfell was in Winterfell itself, was a worrying thought for Melantha and made her wonder if they would try and send men to kill her sweet son.

When news of this all had reached her Melantha had gone and spoken to the only son of Beron Stark who was still in Winterfell. Twenty two year old Rodrik Stark known was the wandering wolf to some, he was the best warrior in the north now his brother Artos was dead, and as such Melantha had thought that he would agree to fight his brothers and defend his nephew’s rights. She had been pleasantly surprised when he had refused to do just that. In fact he had been stock silent and then had said. _“I will not do it. I cannot do it Melantha. You can ask anything of me but that. I cannot do this, to fight my kin? That is the most heinous of crimes, they might have taken leave of their sense but I have not and I shall not let my name get dragged into this mess.”_

_“And so you will let them threaten Edwyle and Alysanne? You would let them come here into my children’s home to run amok of the very thing that your brother and the man you swore a holy oath to?” Melantha had said._

_Rodrik had closed his eyes then and had sounded pained when he replied. “Do not do this to me Melantha. I bore the pain of it all when Willam died, I will not see my family tear itself apart because Donnor and Errold are too proud to see sense. If I lead the men for Winterfell, then that means I consider it a serious threat. If I do nothing then support for this cause might die down, and the lords will remember what good Willam did them.”_

_“And what will that achieve? Apart from weakening my own son’s cause?” Melantha had asked._

_Rodrik though had shaken his head and simply said. “I will not do it.”_

And so without her goodbrother’s support, Melantha had been at a loss to do, until Maester Lomys had reminded her that she had kin in the Riverlands and very powerful friends at court. So she had written both to Raventree Hall and to Riverrun, and then to King’s Landing. Both her brother and her goodbrother had written back saying that they would send men to aid her once the King had given his consent. That consent had come some days later, written in King Maekar’s neat hand, he had promised her the full backing of the Iron throne and that she could use men from the Riverlands and that soon enough men from the crownlands would come as well.

That raven had come some three weeks ago. A knock on the door and the entrance of Maester Lomys took her from her musings. “A maester,” she said as calmly as possible. “What news have you brought me?”

The man was silent a moment before he said. “Bad news I am afraid my lady. It would appear the war of words between the brothers has changed into a war of steel.”

“What do you mean? Have they completely taken leave of their senses then?” Melantha asked dreading the answer.

The maester handed her the letters and she read them and then exclaimed out loud. “The audacity of these men! Breaking their sworn oaths and then fighting so close to where they would rule. Have they no honour? No shame?”

Maester Lomys answered her thought in actual fact she had not needed an answer. “Well my lady, at least we now know where most of the important houses loyalties lie and that is not with young Edwyle. With Glover forces having defeated the Tallhart forces in the Wolfswood, and Dustin troops having defeated Manderly troops near the White River. It would appear Donnor and Brandon have the advantage over young Errold though now that Umber and Hornwood forces are engaging in battle it might be the time to see if Rodrik could be persuaded to bring House Bolton to our side?”

Melantha sighed and shook her head. “Rodrik has been quite clear in that he will do nothing to stop this fighting from happening. That he himself has not declared himself Lord surprises me. Though it does seem as if he is merely waiting for the opportune moment, and sending him to Jonnel Bolton now would be a very, very bad idea I feel.”

“And what of the help Lord Tully promised my lady? When shall that be arriving?” Lomys asked.

Melantha sighed and said. “I know not, winter has set in and as such will delay many things.”

Lomys looks at her then and says gravely. “Then I guess we must hold out and hope for the best, a quick end to this foolishness.”


	2. Storm the Giant

**228 A.L. Long Lake**

**Lord Harmond Umber**

As he looked out at the men camped around him Harmond found his thoughts turning to the last time he had fought at Long Lake. Willam Stark had been alive then and had been Lord of Winterfell as well, the man was beloved by his lords and his people, and as such Harmond had always greatly respected him. That both he and his brother Artos had died from fighting those bloody wildlings was a sad thing for the north, for they had lost two great men during that battle. Of course that had left a child as Lord of Winterfell but, Harmond had remembered the stories his own father Jon had told him about the chaos that had come during the Dornish wars when Cregan Stark had left a child in charge, never again would the north see such chaos. Once the war with the wildlings had ended tensions had begun reaching boiling point and the factions began arming themselves, House Umber had sided with Donnor Stark, mainly because the man was the best military commander that the north had had in centuries, and because of the fact that Harmond had served under his command during Long Lake and during earlier wars with the Harmond had served under his command during Long Lake and during earlier wars with the Blackfyres, and that despite appearing unfriendly the man did care for northern traditions and did not want to let the southerners in Winterfell ruin them, and as such wanted northern independence something Harmond and the other far northern lords also wanted.

And so when Donnor had written to him some three moons ago asking him to begin marshalling his men for the march on Winterfell Harmond had responded immediately, and had called his men in all 5,000 of them. They had marched from Last Hearth only to find the crossing blocked by men from Hornwood under the command of Lord Edgar Hornwood who had declared for Errold Stark. As such Harmond had called for a war council before battle began and as he looked about the tent for the men who were to join him, there was his son and heir Donnor a strong lad, Stevron Snow his bastard uncle, Artos Umber his brother and finally Beron Norrey a experienced man who had fought in the first Blackfyre war and against the Ironborn. Harmond spoke then. “Beron what news have your scouts brought us of Hornwood’s movements?”

Beron was silent for a moment before he said. “Hornwood has positioned men on the eastern and southern banks of Long Lake and as such has also sent a scouting party towards the bridge readying them for whatever breach manoeuvres we might attempt.”

Harmond nodded and said. “So the man still has not learnt from when the wildlings snuck up on his rear during Long Lake. Truly the man must still be as green as grass to attempt such a move, when we have more men then he does.”

“But father,” his son Donnor asked. “Would that not be what Edgar Hornwood is expecting of us? That will think his move is rash and foolish and that we shall send men to the eastern bank to overpower them there? Surely we should play along with the man’s ploy and then crush him on the bridge and leave his two other forces high and dry. After Bolton is neutral and Karstark is sending men to attack from the rear.”

Harmond was silent for a moment as he considered what his son had said, he turned to his uncle and asked. “Stevron what do you make of my son’s suggestion? Do you think it has merit?”

Stevron was a small man, his mother being a villager from Last Hearth. He was a silent man as well but when he spoke all listened. “Aye I think Donnor’s suggestion has a lot of merit. I do believe we must play along with Hornwood otherwise he will bring his men around and flank us before Karstark can get here and we shall be damned. Besides what could the risk be?”

Harmond nodded in acceptance and called the council meeting to an end. Once he was armoured and ready he mounted his horse and waited for a moment before unsheathing his sword and leading the charge towards the bridge of Horror. The bridge was big enough to get three horses across and so that was what they did, finding the entrance free, they rode at full pelt and smashed straight into Edgar Hornwood’s men who had not thought to find the Umbers riding across towards them. Harmond brought his sword forward and slashed and hacked his way through the men in his path, swinging and hacking he cut man after man down to the ground as if they were nothing more than flies. They fell to the ground and his greatsword was bathed in red, the blood of the enemy painting it in a very dark light. On he went, swinging his sword hacking and slashing clearing a way through, bodies began to fall to the ground or into the lake itself, but they pushed on, they held the bridge and soon enough they were onto the east bank.

The fighting on the east bank was fierce and Harmond felt his blood sing with joy at that. Swinging his sword he cut through green boys who fought with more fierceness than sense and he laughed aloud as they fell to the ground dead with nothing more than stumps left, where once their hands had been. His sword was bathed red, and when he came across Edgar Hornwood himself he roared in triumph and cut his way through to the man, who like a craven fled. Harmond roared and spurred his horse onto follow the man cutting down whoever came in his way, his focus purely on Edgar Hornwood, he slashed and hacked but more men seemed to be coming towards him. Still his sons Willam and Beric paved a way through them for him and so he was disappointed to find that Edgar Hornwood was already dead his body littered with arrows. Karstark arrows. The battle of Long Lake ended with a Umber victory and another setback for Errold Stark. The victory gave Donnor Stark another hold in the north for once Harmond marched for Hornwood the castle surrendered and declared for Donnor Stark.

**228 A.L. Greywater Watch**

**Lord Howland Reed**

It had been six months since the civil war between the Stark brothers had erupted. Since then many small skirmishes had erupted. Skirmishes in the Wolfswood between House Glover and House Tallhart which had seen the Glovers win and the Tallharts retreat behind closed doors at Torrhen’s Square giving Donnor control over the Wolfswood, there had been a fight between forces between the Manderlys and the Dustins at White River which had seen the Dustins win and Lord Manderly and his heir die at the hands of Brandon Stark. The Harmond Umber had beaten Edgar Hornwood and taken his castle, giving Donnor the advantage. Whilst Howland bemoaned that there was war in the north, he supposed that it was necessary if they wished to achieve independence something that Howland and the lords of the neck desperately wanted. After all the north had done nothing but suffer at the hands of the Iron throne for the past two hundred years, and so now it was time for them to have their own time and freedom once more.

Of course being down in the Neck meant that Howland had not really had much to do with the war that had been happening north of Moat Cailin, something that had greatly frustrated him, for though the Cranongmen were not usually a martial people, this was a cause Howland greatly believed in and desperately wished to contribute to. His role so far had been mainly fighting Freys, something his people had been doing for six hundred years, they had fought the Freys and sent them packing back to their two towers. They had even managed to capture Ser Edos Frey the brother of Walder Frey and were holding him hostage for Donnor. There had been another minor fight with some forces from Seagard that had sailed into the neck through the marches, Howland had made sure to have their boats burnt and their men killed or fed to the lizard lions. He had sworn to protect the neck for Donnor and he meant to hold to that promise.

So far if he were being honest all did look good for Donnor, they had won two of the battles that his faction had fought in, and Brandon and Errold Stark seemed to be pondering their own moves. If Donnor could break Errold quickly and end the threat that the Manderlys posed with their resources and wealth, then perhaps he could take Winterfell and force Brandon Stark to surrender. If not then Howland suspected the war would last for much longer than the previous civil war had lasted, and that one had seen the Manderlys triumph over the rival factions to gain influence in Winterfell. This time Howland was determined that the southerners would not corrupt Winterfell and the rightful Kings of the North, for they would be needed for when the darkness returned.

The sound of movement from outside drew him away from his thoughts. The sound of a scouting party returning. Howland stood up and walked to the doorway to his castle and waited for his son to dismount. When Torrhen did dismount he seemed tired but happy as well. “Father,” his son began. “I have good news, very good news indeed.”

“And what news is this son?” Howland asked.

His son smiled and said with much excitement. “The garrison in Moat Cailin are beginning to speak of mutiny against their commander Brandon Blacksnow. They are growing anxious to either fight in the north where the main action is or to turn their attention southwards towards us. That the man is not letting them do either is driving them mad. Our men within the garrison have begun whispering in Luthor Snow’s ear about possibly overthrowing Blacksnow and taking charge of the garrison. With any luck that should happen before the year is out.”

Howland was silent for a moment before he spoke. “That is good indeed son. I trust you made it so that Luthor does not suspect us in this whispering? After all the man is known to hate us, and he might very well write to whoever it is he actually serves about our own motives for doing this should he find out. Who was it you entrusted to the task?”

His son was silent for a moment and then said. “Theon and Tormund. I thought they would be the best for the sort of deception that would be required for this task to work properly.”

Howland nodded and then asked. “You know what will need to be done with them once the task is done though yes? I do not want a repeat of what happened with that Locke girl you understand.”

His son looked down and said. “Yes father I understand.”

Howland nods and says. “Good now go and get freshened up, your betrothed shall be here soon enough.” Once his son has left, Howland walks back into his chambers and finds his wife Berena sat on the bed waiting for him.

“What news did our son have for you?” his wife asked.

Once Howland was done recounting what Torrhen had told him he said softly. “Should this plan work, Moat Cailin will belong to Donnor and soon enough he will have enough strength to take Winterfell and crush Errold in one go.”

His wife nodded and then asked. “But what of Brandon? My brother is a very proud man and will likely keep fighting even once Errold is dead. So long as he believes that he is the right man for the job he will keep fighting and should anything happen to Melantha he will fight until Donnor’s blood stains the White River. He always was far too attracted to her for his own good.”

Howland nodded and then said. “I have seen things, in my dreams. Errold will die, but this war will continue for much longer once he is dead. And the dragons will become involved both red and black.”

“And who have you seen sitting in the throne of my father once this is all done?” His wife asked.

Howland looked at his wife and sighed. “A wolf of the blackest colour, that is all I know.”


	3. Southern Implications

**229 A.L.: King’s Landing**

**King Maekar I Targaryen**

It seemed that ever since that gods damned duel his whole life had been filled with curses. First Baelor had died from his wounds and Maekar had been named kinslayer, and then the Great Spring Sickness had come and taken his father and nephews Valarr and Matarys, leaving them to Aerys foolishness. Aerys had refused to sire a child on Aelinor and so the whole kingdom had waited for war or something else to happen, war had come ten years ago when Bittersteel had landed with the golden company and Haegon Blackfyre, the man had captured Daella some three years before then and had wed her and bed her, his daughter was dead now as far as he knew, far removed from him and the pain she had undoubtedly suffered. Maekar and Bloodraven had ended that threat Maekar smashing Haegon’s face in with many mace blows, ending his life. But the tragedy continued, Aerys and Aelinor had perished in a fire in their manse in the Riverlands, leaving it somewhat ruined and a whole in Maekar’s heart where his sister had once been. And so Maekar the kinslayer had ascended the throne, his beloved wife Naerys beside him. He had ruled for eight years and during that time there had been peace of a sort, Daeron had finally settled into his role as Prince of Dragonstone and seemed to have finally weaned himself away from the bottle and had finally sired a daughter on the Massey girl Maekar had had him wed. Aerion also seemed to have simmered down though Maekar knew not of what his son got up to, spending most of his time with the Brackens as it were. Aemon was a maester in service to Daeron and seemed happy, and Aegon, Aegon had wed Rhae in defiance of Maekar’s orders and so far seemed to be the happiest of them all. He and Rhae had three children, Duncan the oldest was a strapping young lad of thirteen, Maekar’s squire as well. Jaehaerys whilst frail was sharp of mind and would be a good maester or advisor, and then there was little Rhaelle who was a ball of energy at six. Maekar loved his grandchildren and he did his best not to think of his grandchildren by Daella, the memory of her slipping away from him haunted him to this very day.

The sound of the council doors opening snapped him out of his thoughts. In walked his small council, Aegon who served as his hand, Lord Gormon Massey who was his relation by Daeron’s marriage served as master of laws, Lord Devan Beesbury served as master of coin, Lord Arnold Osgrey served as master of whispers, Lord Daeron Velaryon served as master of ships, then there was Grand maester Runard and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Alyn Connington. Once they were all seated Maekar spoke. “Well my lords. What news have you brought me of my kingdom?”

It was Osgrey who spoke first. “Well Your Grace, there has been news from the north. As you know the three Stark brothers Donnor, Brandon and Errold have all declared themselves the rightful lords of Winterfell and spent the first part of last year rounding up support amongst the northern houses. Partway through the year, battle began. Donnor Stark so far seems to have had the best of it, gaining control of the Wolfswood and the far north near the Wall and the Gift”

That was grim news indeed, Maekar had met Donnor Stark when the last Blackfyre war had broken out, the man was grim and hated the south. If he won northern independence and more war would follow. “Very well, what of the man’s two brothers Brandon and Errold what have they been doing whilst their older brother has been winning these battles?”

Osgrey is silent for a moment before he says. “Errold Stark still holds the southern north up to Moat Cailin. The Manderlys and their sworn houses are regrouping for a fully frontal march on Winterfell to take it from Edwyle Stark and his mother. As for Brandon Stark I do believe he is being the smart one and is training his men and soldiers ready for a lightning campaign against one of his brothers.”

Aegon spoke then. “He is being smart. He is letting his two brothers break themselves against one another before committing to a full on war on his own part. It is what I would do were I him.”

Maekar sighed. “And what word has there been from Winterfell?”

Maekar expected Osgrey to reply but instead it was his son Aegon who replied. “Melantha Blackwood has written to Riverrun once more asking for aid, and though Lord Tully has called his banners he is waiting your say so to go ahead and attack Moat Cailin. There has also been word from Lord Arryn. It would appear that some of his lords are beginning to grow restless and are wanting to act on Lord Royce’s declaration that Artos Stark’s sons Brandon and Benjen should be the new ruling family in the north.”

Maekar sighed then and said. “Write to Lord Tully and tell him that once the army from the Crownlands has left King’s Landing that is when he can assail Moat Cailin. Ser Alyn Longwaters will command the host from the crownlands.” His son nodded and then Maekar turned to Osgrey and asked. “And what news have you brought from across the narrow sea? What is Bittersteel doing?”

Osgrey was silent a moment and then replied. “Bittersteel has been spending more and more time with Baelon Blackfyre Your Grace, grooming him for the role he believes is his right. He has also begun speaking with the Prince of Pentos as well as with the Triarchs in Volantis. It would appear that he is most definitely planning for another invasion. And this time he will have some powerful allies backing him.”

Maekar sighed and asked the question that he dreaded hearing the answer to. “And what of Blackfyre support here in Westeros? Which houses would betray us should Blackfyre land?”

Osgrey was silent a moment before he replied. “Houses Peake, Appleton, Butterwell, Corbray and Reyne all remain steadfastly Blackfyre from the last rebellion. Whom else declares for Blackfyre depends on what happens in the north.”

Maekar nodded and he feared for what this could mean for the future, and he pictured Daella’s body crumpled and bloody, and he swore that he would end this war in the north even if it killed him.

\----------

**229 A.L.: Runestone**

**Lord Jonos Royce**

Since the war in the north had broken out, not a moment went by that Jonos did not think of his old friend and goodbrother Artos Stark. His goodbrother had fostered in Runestone and they had grown up together, and Jonos has always regarded his friend as a brave and honourable man as well as the best warrior in Westeros since Daemon Blackfyre himself. He had been delighted when Artos had wed his own sister Lorra, declaring to his friend that they were now truly brothers as they had always wished. When news had reached him of his friend’s death he had been devastated, his only consolation had been that at least Artos had died taking most of the wildlings with him. Of course news of his friend’s death had made him worry about his sister, Lorra was a smart lady and a very protective mother, and she was all alone in Moat Cailin, and as such he had been in correspondence with Artos’s bastard cousin Brandon Blacksnow, and as such had made sure that Brandon had ensured Lorra’s safety as the north had gone to shit. As for his friend’s sons Brandon and Benjen, he saw a lot of his friend in Benjen, that honourable streak and a keen sense of right and wrong, whilst in Brandon he saw Lorra’s smartness and Artos’ skill with a sword. In his mind they were the rightful rulers of Winterfell and the north, and the Iron Throne’s reluctances to allow them to fight for this frustrated Jonos beyond belief and made him think that perhaps he might be better served declaring for the Blackfyres should they ever invade again.

He had finally managed to get the rest of the Valelords behind his nephews claims to Winterfell as well, those houses sworn to him had already pledged their strength, but the addition of Houses Waynwood, Corbray, Templeton and of course the backing of Lord Rodrick Arryn was a great bolster. They were meeting at the Gates of the Moon, to discuss what their next move should be and Jonos had a fair few ideas, of course considering that this was the winter home of the Arryns he let his liege lord speak first. “Well my lords, we are here now because Lord Royce has convinced us that the only way we can see the north set to rights is by having Brandon Stark, son of the honourable Artos Stark installed as Lord of Winterfell. We have all pledged our swords to the boy’s cause, and seeing as he is my own squire, I can attest for the fact that I do believe he will make a good lord with the right guidance and teaching. Now I would hear what reports we have been able to gather.”

Lord Dwayne Corbray spoke then. “Well my lord, the King has finally allowed Lord Tully to march from Riverrun, now that Ser Alyn Longwaters and the strength of the crownlands has marched north as well. They are currently assaulting Moat Cailin and the Neck, being picked off one by one by the bog devils that dwell there. White Harbour remains closed off to all as always, though it does seem as if the new Lord Manderly and Errold Stark might be close to falling out.”

“How do you mean by that?” Lord Arryn asked.

Corbray smiled that smile of his that always left Jonos feeling like he had witnessed something foul. “Let me just say that Manderly is not the same sort of fool as his father was, he is a different sort of fool. And Errold Stark is growing impatient with waiting around hand and foot for the supplies and men that he was promised by White Harbour, soon enough both men will want each other dead, and that can be used to our advantage. White Harbour will soon be open to service once more, and I do believe that we should use that to our advantage.”

Jonos spoke then. “Aye that is all well and good, but it could take months or perhaps even years before either man acts against one another. And by that time much could have changed in the rest of Westeros and as such I feel that we must act and put pressure on Manderly now to clear the port and make it easily accessible.”

Lord Rodrick looked at him then and asked. “Oh and how do you propose we do that Jonos? Our fleet is not strong enough to break through whatever blockade is around White Harbour, we might be able to weaken them enough to bring our men to land, but unless you want the Sisters to rebel against us we must wait.”

Jonos sighed then and nodded. Lord Rodrick’s son Ser Jasper spoke up then. “What news has there been from the north proper? What has Donnor Stark been doing?”

At this Jonos spoke up. “According to Brandon Blacksnow, from what he has heard, Donnor Stark has been consolidating his power in the far north. He now has the allegiance of all the mountain clans, the Mormonts, the Glovers, the Umbers, the Karstarks and the Hornwoods. The Skagosi have also joined him in the fold. Brandon believes that the man means to make a move on Winterfell before the year is out.”

Lord Rodrick nodded and then asked. “And what of the cranongmen what have they been doing since Lord Howland forgot his oaths to Artos Stark?”

Jonos was silent a moment and then he replied. “The cranongmen tried to have Luthor Snow usurp Brandon from his position as commander of the Moat Cailin garrison. Luthor came to Brandon though and told him it all, and as such they spent time clearing the garrison so to speak. They removed half the garrison who it turned out were men sworn to House Reed who had been reporting back to Torrhen Reed. As such the Moat is secure and the Reeds have seen their strength significantly reduced.”

Lord Rodrick nodded and then said. “I do believe it is time that we paid a visit to Lord Sunderland, Jonos. Time to remind him that he is as northern as us two, and has as much an interest in this as we do.”


	4. Consequences of the Divde

**Seventh Moon of 229 A.L, The Neck**

**Ser Alyn Longwaters**

Drudgery and boredom often made men think of home when they were at war, that was something his father Ser Jon Waters often used to say, and it was something that Alyn was beginning to think did truly ring true now. He had been gone from King’s Landing for nearly four moons now and not a day had gone by where he had not thought about his wife, or his children or even his father, aunt or grandmother. Alyn loved his wife Elaena deeply and he loved their two girls something fierce as well, he also loved his father Ser Jon the famous bastard son of Alyn Velaryon and Elaena Targaryen as well and remembered with some great fondness the nights spent in the Driftmark and at the Red Keep being regaled with tales of his father and grandfather’s adventures during the course of their lives. His aunt and grandmother often joined in during such tales and brought much and more to them as well, all in all Alyn did have to admit that he had had a very good childhood, a safe one as well and he did deeply hope to be there to ensure that his own girls had a similarly safe childhood.

Of course being tasked with leading the army of the crownlands to war had proven somewhat more challenging, especially considering that it was now winter. Along the march to the north Alyn had stopped off at Riverrun where he had met with Lords Tully, Blackwood, Piper, Bracken and even Prince Aerion and they had discussed how they would be best served attacking the north and completing the task they had been given. The news that Lord Tully had given him had been dire indeed, Lord Mallister was dead, Walder Frey had been given a bloody nose and his brother was a prisoner, the Freys had lost more than half their men to the bog devils and the Cranongmen were not looking like they would give up though they themselves had lost half their numbers to an attack by Brandon Blacksnow. Once their discussions had ended they had decided upon a course of action Prince Aerion had volunteered to lead a probing force to tempt the cranongmen into action and once the fighting there had begun then more fighting would begin. As it was Alyn found himself waiting for that to happen, mounted on horseback, Lord Massey, Lord Bar Emmon and Ser Gareth Dalt of the Kingsguard by his side. “The prince is taking too long to bring the bog devils to where our archers could hit them. What is he doing?” Alyn fumed aloud.

Lord Bar Emmon looked at him a moment and then said. “What Prince Aerion does best, he is probably screaming at them that he is blood of the dragon and they must bow to him. I would not be surprised if half his host is already dead. The other half soon will be. Why did we allow the man to lead the probing host?”

Alyn sighed and said. “Because his grace was most insistent on doing so, and one has learnt never to deny a prince of the blood whatever it is they wish. Besides, he has fought in wars before, surely he cannot be as hopeless as we all think he is?” Alyn fervently prayed that he was correct.

Lord Massey spoke then his voice was soft and quiet. “Prince Aerion will do  what must be done and nothing more. That much we all know is true. There is no point in worrying otherwise. He will deal with the Cranongmen how he sees fit, and if he has his wits about him he will stick to the plan. Otherwise we shall be seeing some very angry riverlords on our heels very soon.”

Alyn was about to reply when the sound of hooves reached him, and soon enough the banner of House Targaryen came flapping into their line of sight. Alyn straightened up then and drew his sword out into the air, as they waited for the men to come closer he could see the bog devils chasing after them riding lizard lions, once they came into firing distance, Alyn raised his sword up into the air and then brought it down. At once, the arrows came whizzing into the air, some connected and killed the bog devils where they were running, and some caused enough chaos, for Alyn and his men to lead the charge through the neck.

The skirmishes lasted well into the night, fighting swinging and hacking and slashing, Alyn killed his fair share of men during the three skirmishes that took place before the sun went down. Prince Aerion was not seen, but Alyn found he cared little about the Prince. When the sun went down the bog devils withdrew and Lord Tully and Blackwood joined them to speak of the day’s events. “They gave us a long hard battle.” Lord Brynden Tully said. “They gave as good as they got, we lost more than half of our men to the swamps and to their trickery.”

“Do you know what happened to Prince Aerion my lord?” Alyn asked. “The man was supposed to return at nightfall but none have seen him since the battle began.”

It was Lord Bracken who spoke then his voice hoarse. “The fool went and got himself killed. Chasing after some bog devil who refused to do anything but fight.”

Alyn was silent for a moment and then said. “Word shall need to be sent to King’s Landing once all is said and done.” A moment’s silence then the lords nodded. In the morning they put that behind them, and marched for Moat Cailin, the bog devils did not bother them as they marched, but soon enough battle began once more. Arrows reigned fire down upon him and his men, and though Alyn’s archers gave as good as they got, Alyn knew that most likely they would not win. As the gates of Moat Cailin howled open, and men came streaming out, Alyn drew his sword and began hacking and slashing at the men who came in his way.

On the fighting went, the tide of battle meaning Alyn gave as many blows as he got, and soon enough the whole of the land in front of the Moat was bathed red in blood. From what his men had told him during some of the brief lulls in battle what cranongmen had fled during the earlier battles had returned and were now picking of his men one by one. The tide of battle brought him before a man who looked like Artos Stark, and must have been Brandon Blacksnow, a fierce warrior. Alyn met the man in a clash of steel, swinging and hacking and swinging and hacking, on it went, on and on, swinging and hacking , swinging and hacking. On and on they fought, breaking each other down to size, until, Alyn felt the blade pierce his armour, and his vision went dark as blood came spurting out of his chest. On the fourth day of the seventh month of the 229th year after Aegon’s Landing Ser Alyn Longwaters died and with him the hosts of the Crownlands and Riverlands were either killed or died trying to flee.

* * *

**Ninth Month of 229 A.L.: Tyrosh**

**Ser Aegor Rivers**

The sound of steel on steel as the men fought and trained was music to his ears. This was what he was, a warrior born and bred. He was not meant for the floweriness of court, nor the intrigues of King’s Landing though he could play the game as well as any of his trueborn brethren and certainly as well as that snake Bloodraven. He preferred battle where one knew what was what. Though it seemed the gods had conspired to keep him away from his goal, his pledge to Daemon, his loyalty to his brother, had been a source of great pride and pain during his life. The previous rebellions had seen his over confidence exposed, the first one they should have won had it not been for the kinslayer they would be in King’s Landing and the Targaryens would be dead and rotting, or at least the falseborn’s line would be. The second rebellion, well it had not been a rebellion itself, the boy Daemon had named for himself had left without Aegor’s permission trying to bring glory to his name, he had failed and when he had been assassinated Aegor had shed no tears and had happily named Haegon the new King. Haegon had been everything Daemon had been, a warrior, charming and capable, that beyond a doubt. But they had lost when Aegor’s own army had been smashed by Donnor Stark on the banks of the Hook, that had cost them and now Haegon was dead and it was now his son by Daella Targaryen Baelon who held the crown.

Baelon Blackfyre, the son of Haegon and Daella, the grandson of Maekar Targaryen, oh how that thought made Aegor laugh, he could imagine his nephew grating his teeth thinking about it. That the girl had died the way she had was unfortunate, he had come to like her in his own way, but still Baelon seemed to have the best of both his parents in him. He was brilliant with all weapons but Blackfyre especially, and he had his mother’s charm and niceness, a skill that had won him many friends and admirers and from what he could tell many a woman, even though he was but thirteen years old. Aegor was proud of the lad and thought he would most definitely make a great warrior and perhaps even a great King when the time came. Of course they needed to know how things stood in Westeros before their plans were finalized. Which was why he had called a meeting of the generals, these were men who were hardened by a hundred battles and whose loyalty was to the boy who sat to Aegor’s right. Ser Jon Storm bastard cousin of Lord Baratheon, Ser Loren Hill bastard son of the current Lord of Casterly Rock. Ser Dermont Reyne the golden lion, Ser Morris Peake, and finally Ser Rodrik Stout a northman who fought better than anyone Aegor had ever seen even Daemon. “Well Sers, we are here, the Archon of Tyrosh has been so kind as to give us news from Westeros. It seems that the north has fallen into civil war following the deaths of Willam and Artos Stark. Their brothers Donnor, Brandon and Errold have all declared themselves the rightful lords of Winterfell and as such have divided the northern houses between them. There have been many battles between their factions and so far it appears Donnor Stark is winning though his brother Brandon still has most of his strength intact. The throne has also responded to this, by sending a host under Ser Alyn Longwaters to attack Moat Cailin, Alyn was killed and his men were as well. Lord Tully was killed and his riverlords fled south again, though their numbers were greatly reduced. This chaos could be what we need to give us a chance to take Westeros.”

Ser Jon smart as ever asked. “I take it you mean to use the chaos in the north to seek an alliance with whomever it is that might have command over half of Westeros as the end of it all my lord?”

Aegor nodded. “Aye allying with the Lord of Winterfell whoever that might be at the end of this conflict, I do believe is now our only chance of getting the true king on the throne. The Targaryens have the support of the other great houses, and our support base is weak. But should we get the support of the Lord of Winterfell and the north, then we have 45,000 men there waiting for us should we call on them.”

Ser Loren spoke then. “Allying with Donnor Stark might seem a smart move now, considering he is the one who holds most of the north in his pocket now.”

Aegor was about to speak when Ser Rodrik spoke. “Allying with Donnor would be nothing but counterproductive sers. Donnor wants nothing to do with the Iron Throne, I can guarantee you that once we give him help he will use it and then kill us all as he declares himself King in the North. No, declaring for Donnor will give us nothing, besides the man broke our host the last time we invaded, allying with him would grate on too many nerves. Errold is a green boy who is too arrogant to see what advantages we could bring him he will demand more than is just and fair.”

“So whom do you suggest we ally with?” Aegor asked.

Stout was silent a moment before he said. “Brandon Stark my lord. The man is practical and pragmatic, he will bend on issues if he thinks they will benefit his subjects and family. Offer him support to take Winterfell and the North and he will help you place King Baelon on the throne. Offer him terms and he will consider and accept.”

Aegor was silent a moment and then he said. “Very well, if you think Brandon Stark would be the right man for this then I shall go with your advice. I shall send terms to him, our aid in taking Winterfell and the north in return for his aid in taking the throne for Baelon. Once he sits in Winterfell, we shall discuss fairer trade deals and more incentive for the north to become rich.”

Ser Rodrik nods and Aegor has the terms sent out that very day, hopefully this should go well and he can finally return home, to Shiera and to the loves he had thought beyond him.


	5. One Wolf Dies

**10 th Month of 229 A.L.:  The White Knife**

**Errold Stark**

Being the youngest son of Beron Stark had brought many things to Errold, many of them good some bad. He had had the finest martial training that any boy in the north could have, he did not think it was a stretch to say that out of the remaining sons of Beron Stark still living, he was perhaps the best fighter out of all of them. Of course being the youngest son often meant he had to live up to the examples that his older brothers had set, and that was something that he had on occasion found very suffocating, especially when people compared him to Willam and found him lacking. That was one of the reasons why he had decided to declare himself Lord of Winterfell, Willam had been pro southern and his two older brothers were fools who were unsuited to the job, Errold knew he was charming and good looking and he also had the wealth and power to ensure that the north could become a significant power in Westeros should he become Lord of Winterfell. His marriage to Alysanne Manderly the sister to the new lord of White Harbour had ensured that he had the support of the most powerful bannerman of House Stark as well as their resources. His wife was a good looking girl who was compliant and knew her duty, last he had seen her she had been heavy with his child.

With all the support and men he had, Errold had thought to be winning the war by this point. But that was not to be the case. His allies had suffered defeats at Long Lake and at White River, and as such they had lost the Hornwoods. All in all things were looking pretty grim for Errold his support was beginning to wane and his wife’s brother Lord Derryck Manderly was not as willing to kowtow to his every request as his uncle and cousin had been. And as such, it was sheer desperation that had forced Errold into launching this latest attack that had found him on the banks of the White Knife preparing to fight his brother Donnor’s forces for what he hoped would be one last time before he took Winterfell. Lord Derryck, Lord Artos Locke, Lord Beron Flint and Ser Daemon Woolfield were all present in the command tent as Errold spoke. “This will be our final battle against Donnor’s forces my lords. At the end of this either I will be alive and sat in Winterfell or I will be dead and your fate shall be in my brother’s hands. The campaign might not have gone as well as we all hoped but there is hope yet, we still have some 1,000 men more than Donnor does and we can hope to bring that to our advantage. Ser Daemon, what news have the scouts brought?”

The man was silent a moment before he spoke. “Well my lord, your brother has positioned the Umbers and the Karstarks on the northern bank as if to tempt us into leading the assault there. His main body of men though lie on the western bank close to where we are actually camped. Your brother himself was seen close to castle Cerwyn.”

“So once more Donnor Stark means to let others do his dirty work for him. How surprising, this man is not the lord of Winterfell we need. He is nothing but a cold coward.” Lord Locke said heatedly.

Errold said nothing and allowed Lord Derryck to speak. “He might be cold, but never think him a coward Artos. The man is most likely trying to lure us into a false sense of security, or is trying to play on the fact that he believes us green as grass, and that he hopes we shall attack Umber and Karstark and break ourselves against them whilst he brings the rest of his host in at the side and smashes us there and then.”

Errold nods that does sound like something Donnor, the cold hearted bastard that he was would do. “Aye, Lord Manderly speaks true. We cannot fall for that trap, not again. Donnor believes us on the ropes, and believes that I mean to  lead you all against the Umbers and Karstarks. I intend to do no such thing. Ser Daemon, you said that Donnor had been sighted south of Castle Cerwyn?” Daemon nods and Errold continues. “Then I do believe that that is where we shall go.”

He expects some sort of argument against his plan from his lords, but they offer him none and so just as the sun reaches its highest point Errold finds himself armoured and mounted and riding from the western bank in a north westerly direction, before they find themselves at the crossing, and this is where the battle begins. Donnor’s archers fire off arrows at will, as do Errold’s and soon enough the river is bathed red in blood, but Errold pushes through the fray, and his men follow and soon enough though the bodies of his men are filling the river, he has made it across and he begins making contact with steel on steel.

The battle is fast and quick, Errold swings his sword and brings it down again and again, felling more and more of his brother’s men, all the while looking for his brother and waiting for him to appear. Errold swings, and swings, and hacks, and blocks and swings and hacks and swings again, cutting men down as if they are nothing but annoyances. He takes his fair share of blows, his armour gets dented a fair bit but he always manages to give as good as he gets, killing men, knocking them down where he cannot get enough steel on them to kill them.

Eventually Errold came face to face with his older brother, Donnor was dressed in black armour and looked grim, both of them were covered in blood and mud, but neither spoke to one another. They met in a clash of steel, sparks flying, they swung their swords at one another. A swing, a block, a swing, a hack, a gasp of pain, on and on it went as their swords met a clash of steel on steel. Hacking at one another, Donnor was a good warrior, and he was cunning, but Errold was relying on brute strength to get him through this battle, and as it began to flag, he watched with resignation as his strokes were deflected or simply missed his brother. Eventually Donnor brought Errold down to the ground with a swing and a shove, and Errold tumbled off of his horse, as his sword clattered to the ground he felt as if he was watching from elsewhere as Donnor raised his sword and brought it down splitting him in half. Errold Stark the youngest son of Beron and Lorra Stark died on the first day of the 10th month of the 229th year After Aegon’s Landing he was nineteen.

* * *

 

**10 th Month of the 229A.L. : Barrowtown.**

**Brandon Stark**

War, something he had hoped to avoid following the ending of the wildlings at Long Lake, but of course once Artos died it did seem as though war would be the only inevitability. After all, Edwyle was but a boy and Brandon and Benjen were more southern than they were northern, and so Brandon knew that they could not allow Winterfell to fall under too much southern influence, but he also knew that if Donnor became Lord of Winterfell, their independence would follow and that would bring nothing but death and grief to the people of the north. Donnor would do nothing to ease that, as he did not seem capable of proper human interaction outside of his wife and her family, and that had been something that had always irked Brandon. And so after spending two years following Long Lake drumming up support with the Dustins, the Ryswells, the Tallharts, the Cerwyns and the Flints of the Flint’s Finger he had raised his banner and marched. They had gained an early victory over the Manderlys at the White River and had dented Errold’s cause somewhat, and then once the Tallharts had been forced back to Torrhen’s Square, Brandon had retreated back to Barrowtown with his men and had been training his men for the lightening campaign in the southern north that he had been planning for some time.

As for his family, well Brandon had wed Jeyne Dustin a woman he had been close friends with since his childhood when he had fostered at Barrowtown, a woman he loved as a sister but felt not sexual sort of love for. Jeyne was a smart woman, kind and caring and shrewd in the nature of northern politics, and her father Lord Hothar Dustin had been more than agreeable to supporting Brandon, as he wanted his daughter to be Lady of Winterfell and for his grandson to be Lord of Winterfell in the future. Brandon and Jeyne had been wed for a year before the war had broken out and when he had returned from White River they had spent nearly every night with one another, and sure enough she had now given birth to a boy who had his dark grey eyes and her dark brown hair, they had named him Arthur in honour of Jeyne’s brother and Brandon’s best friend.  Brandon loved his son and he cared deeply for his wife, but they both knew that the one woman he truly loved, was the woman he could not have, for she was his brother’s widow and was also the mother of the boy he was trying to remove, and that pained him.

Of course the war had come back to distract him from his thoughts. News had come from his spies in Errold’s army that his fool of a younger brother had marched from White Harbour and had given battle to Donnor’s forces. As such Brandon had marshalled his men and was now marching towards where the remenants of his brother’s forces were camped, on the southern bank of the White Knife, Ser Adam Woolfield had led them after Errold had been killed and most of the men had either been slaughtered or surrendered to Donnor. Brandon stopped his party and waited for Ser Adam to approach. The man was big and burly, but seemed to know who he was. “Lord Brandon,” the man hailed him. “It is a relief to see you. Myself and the men that remained true to the cause are here and waiting just three miles from here.”

Brandon nodded and said. “Perhaps we should discuss the terms of our alliance and whatever other reports you have for me there then?”

Ser Adam nodded and soon enough they were within a modest tent, there Brandon, Lord Hothar, Lord Roger Ryswell and Lord Malcolm Cerwyn as well as those men who had remained behind after the bloody battle of the White Knife were seated. Brandon spoke then. “So then my lords, what terms would you have from me? After all you backed first Errold who was much younger than I, and now you back me. Will you back Donnor should I fall in battle as well?”

Ser Adam spoke. “No my lord we shall not betray you. Errold asked for us to support you should he fall in battle. And we mean to see that you are placed in your rightful place as Lord of Winterfell. Furthermore, we all know what Donnor is, the man is a tyrant in the making and we would all suffer under his rulership. No we mean to see him beat and see you as Lord of Winterfell once and for all.”

Brandon nodded and then asked. “And what news have you brought me then, that would make this alliance worth wile?”

Ser Adam spoke up once more. “Well my lord, though Lord Derryck is dead he placed me in command of the running of White Harbour and as such I have written to the commander of the garrison and asked him to send more troops to us here. I have also brought news that might be distressing, Donnor Stark took Castle Cerwyn after his battle against Errold, he also now holds Winterfell.”

Brandon looked at Lord Malcolm and saw that the man felt shocked and worried, and Brandon himself felt a little sick. He worried over Melantha and her children. As if sensing his worry Ser Adam spoke up. “Worry not my lord, Melantha Blackwood and her children fled the castle before Donnor took the castle. Though where they are no one is sure.”

Brandon was silent for a moment and then he said. “Very well send men to find them and bring them back to White Harbour. Furthermore, there is one more thing I would request of you Ser?”

“Of course my lord.” Ser Addam said.

Brandon nodded and then said. “I would have you open the port in White Harbour, for we are expecting allies from Essos, who will aid our cause as we look to taking Moat Cailin.”


	6. See The Sun

**1 st Month of 230 A.L.: Riverrun**

**Lady Melantha Stark**

Escaping from Winterfell and from the north had been something she had never once imagined that she would have to do, but of course once news had come that Donnor Stark was marching on Winterfell she knew she only had one choice left to her, and so she had gathered Edwyle and Branda and with the help of Rodrik she had fled southward. With the help of her goodsister and Lord Reed’s widow she had escaped the north and had navigated her way through the mires of the neck and arrived at the Twins, where Rodrik had arranged for her and the children to sneak past the toll guards travelling as simple people, Rodrik had paid the toll and then had snuck them through.  She had never felt more like a fugitive than she had fleeing what was her children’s birthright, and yet she had done so that they could live to claim that birthright.

Edwyle and Branda had both been very upset about having to leave Winterfell and had not truly understood why they had had to leave, or at least Branda had not, Edwyle though had and serving as Rodrik’s squire he had learnt more news than even Rodrik would have been able to learn. They had eventually managed to make it to Riverrun where her brother and Lord Tully had been waiting for her as if they had been expecting and so they had taken refuge there. Edwyle and Branda soon settled into a daily routine playing with her brother Ronald’s children Benji and Myranda, and for that she was grateful for it took their minds off of what had happened. Ronald himself spent time with her and he did what he could to take her mind off all that had happened, though it was not truly succeeding for she kept thinking that it was completely strange and maddening how it had all fallen to pieces.

Of course the King and Lord Tully had arrived to ask for her report as she had promised. The King looked tired and worn but he still spoke kindly to her. “My lady, I know you are tired and that you wish for rest, and I do apologise that you find yourself in such circumstances but as you know I must know what you know and what you have learnt of the situation in the north.”

Melantha nodded accepting the king’s condolences and then taking a sip of water began. “Well Your Grace, before I fled the north, what I knew was that Errold Stark the youngest of the brothers fighting to usurp my son’s rights, had been killed in the battle of the White Knife, killed by his elder brother Donnor Stark. What men Errold had, either were killed, surrendered and joined Donnor or fled, waiting for Brandon Stark to move from Barrowtown. Donnor took Castle Cerwyn before he came upon Winterfell. From what I learnt from Maester Lomys the man now has the support of Houses Umber, Glover, Hornwood, Karstark, Mormont the mountain clans and the Skagosi. As for Brandon, all I know is that after winning victory at White River he retreated back to Barrowtown and began preparing for gods alone knows what.”

The king nodded seeming even more drained than before. “Very well thank you for your report. Since you have come to Raventree Hall, more news from the north has arrived. Donnor Stark sits in Winterfell proclaiming himself King in the North though he faces trouble from the north as wildlings scale over the walls attempting to take advantage of the chaos. Brandon Stark has stirred himself from Barrowtown and has allied with Ser Adam Woolfield and White Harbour after promising to name his nephew Jonnel as Lord of White Harbour. They are planning a campaign against Moat Cailin, and have aligned with the Blackfyres. Mercenaries from Essos have arrived in White Harbour to make war on Donnor Stark.”

That news did surprise Melantha, she had never thought Brandon would betray his oath to the throne, but then again she had never thought he would betray his oath to his liege lord as well. All she could say in response was. “Then his a traitor and must needs die.”

The king looked at her then and said simply. “He shall, I am sending your brother and Lord Tully as well as the might of the Vale to invade the north and fight to restore Winterfell and the North to your son. I promise to you that your son shall have his birthright restored to him and these traitors shall suffer most grievously.” With that the king left her room leaving her alone with Ronald.

She looked at Ronald then and asked him softly. “Will you truly march to war again brother? You had only just come back last time we spoke. Must you march once more?”

Her brother was silent for a moment and then he said simply. “Aye, the king has asked it of me and so I must follow my oaths. Besides Edwyle is my nephew and the rightful lord of Winterfell, he is too young to fight for it himself, and his uncle is too much a craven to fight for it, so I must represent him and fight. And I promise you that this time we shall not fail.”

With that Ronald got up and left, and a few moments later Edwyle entered, her son seemed tired but also like he was bursting to say something. He eventually said. “I want to head north with uncle Ronald mother!”

Melantha looked at her son then and said. “But you are too young to go and fight sweetling. And besides your uncle would not want you to put yourself at risk, nor would I for that matter. For who will protect us here once your uncle has head north?”

Her son pouted then and said. “But uncle Rodrik is remaining here, and he says that if I wish to fight I can!”

Melantha sighed, her goodbrother needed to think more carefully about the words he said in front of Edwyle. “He did not mean it literally I am sure. After all you are the Lord of Winterfell and are the most important person right now in Riverrun. You must remain safe my sweetling.”

Her son looked like he might argue but then his face changed and he said seriously. “Yes mother.”

\---------

**2 nd Month of  230 A.L. : Runestone.**

**Lady Lorra Stark**

The war in the north had not really touched Moat Cailin, not truly, true there had been those who had tried to bring it to them, like the cranongmen but they had been dealt a swift blow and had been crushed by Brandon Blacksnow the man her husband had named commander of the garrison. The bog devils had been put nearly to the point of extinction by her husband and as such they had not troubled them for some time. Though the war still raged outside, Errold was dead; the prideful and stupid boy killed by his more grim and serious brother Donnor. Donnor held Winterfell and Melantha and her children had disappeared to gods alone knew where, but Brandon Stark still remained alive and well, fighting like a man possessed opening up White Harbour and taking in sellswords from Essos who were rumoured to be part of the Golden Company.

She and Brandon Blacksnow, her husband’s bastard cousin had grown close over the course of the war, Brandon was a good man, stern and honourable and fiercely loyal. Qualities she admired and that was something she had found attracted her to him, his wife Alysanne was away in the Vale, in Runestone having left before the war had broken out, and as such she and Brandon had begun an affair, mainly from their grief at her husband’s passing and also because they were attracted to one another and it was a way to keep warm during the winters that were fiercely cold. Brandon spoke to her about many things and asked her thoughts on various issues, and as such when it became apparent that Brandon Stark meant to march on the Moat, they had planned their escape, and as such when battle broke out they had not been in the castle, instead they had been on a small boat sailing forth down the streams and towards the bite, and from the bite they had ridden towards the Vale where her brother Jonos had greeted her.

She had then been reunited with her children, Brandon and Benjen both of whom had grown somewhat since she had last seen them. Brandon was eager to fight for what he saw as his cousin’s right, whilst Benjen was silent and solemn and rarely spoke. But she loved her sons equally and treasured what time she had with them, for she knew that soon enough they would be sent off to fight after all White Harbour was now accepting ships and her brother had told her that the Vale was getting ready to sail and fight for her sons. Not for Edwyle surprisingly and that worried her somewhat, though Brandon  had told her that Artos’ blood was the only ones fit for Winterfell now that his brothers had shown how traitorous they truly were.

Whilst her boys were in a war council, Lorra spent time with Brandon Blacksnow’s wife Alysanne Stark, sister to the warring brothers and a good friend of hers. Alysanne was a good and kind woman who seemed very laid back about what her husband got up to, Lorra knew her goodsister had wed Brandon because he offered her safety not because she was in love with him, and as such she was fiercely protective of her children Beron and Cregan but apart from that was good company, she was also very smart. “They will be marching to war sooner than you think my lady.” Alysanne said taking Lorra from her thoughts.

“Oh and what makes you say that?” Lorra asked.

Her goodsister smiled at her then and said simply. “I know my husband Lorra, and I know he took his oath to your husband very seriously. He intends to see it fulfilled. By the end of this either Brandon or Benjen shall sit the winter throne, or Brandon Stark the elder shall lie rotting in the ground along with Donnor Stark. Of course, the riverlords are fighting for Edwyle and that is one small snag that my husband and the lords of the vale have not truly considered. Especially as King Maekar seems to think the Vale will now fight for Edwyle.”

“You mean the King expects them to fight for a child when my sons are nearly men grown who actually know more of the north than the lord himself?” Lorra asked.

“Aye, that is what is being said. And with my brother Brandon having declared for the Blackfyres and Donnor having proclaimed himself a king in the north, it is fair game to say that should the riverlords succeed where they failed before, Edwyle shall become a southern puppet. His mother has no head for the game, and as such she shall fall to the traps of whatever her brother and Lord Tully tell her. That is why the Valelords want your sons on the winter throne, they know this and wish to prevent it. Brandon has a mind of his own and that is good for a lord of Winterfell, plus a little extra alliance between the north and the Vale will always be good for them both.” Alysanne replied.

Lorra looked at her goodsister then and said. “And what do they make of me then my lady and how have you managed to learn all of this?”

“They believe you a good woman Lorra. And the fact that Brandon Blacksnow is vouching for you only increases their respect. Of course with your brother being Lord Arryn’s right hand man how could they not.”Alysanne replied, and then as if realising that she had not answered the second question said simply. “I listen. I learnt long ago to listen to the gossiping of men, for they gossip nearly as badly as us women do, except they gossip about politics rather than about who sleeps with who.”

Lorra blushed slightly then and asked. “What do you make of the war Al? Why did your brothers do what they did?”

Alysanne sighed then and said. “Donnor rebelled because he wants an independent north and because he sees Edwyle and your children as nothing more than southern puppets. Brandon rebelled because he saw it as his duty to prevent Donnor’s tyranny from coming to fruition. As for Errold, I know not why that boy rebelled, he always had more water behind his ears than actual sense. I am only surprised Rodrik did not rebel, the man could have brought more support to his cause than any of my other brothers.”


	7. Northern Lies

**3 rd Month of 230 A.L. Winterfell**

**Lord Donnor Stark**

Winterfell echoed in the emptiness of dread and war, winter had taken a firm hold over his childhood home, leaving the grounds white with snow and bleak with cold and rain. Donnor Stark, Lord of Winterfell by conquest sat in his solar and brooded. The whole war had been something that he had not wished to do, but he had thought it his duty what with Artos dead, had he not rebelled, Melantha Blackwood would have seen to it that his nephew Edwyle grew up to be a southern puppet, kowtowing to their every beck and call. The north had suffered enough from the south since the Targaryens had come to the throne, as far as Donnor was concerned it need not suffer anymore. Had he not so strongly believed that, he knew he would have been content remaining the mountain castle he had built for himself from the wedding present his father had given him. He would have ruled those lands well, and would have ensured that the mountain clans did not kill themselves, and he would have been more than content to spend time with his wife and daughters seeing that they were safe and happy.

Speaking of his family, Donnor worried over how they were adjusting to their lives as the ladies of Winterfell. He knew the people of the castle and the nearby lands did not like him, nor had he given them cause to do so. His taking of Winterfell had been bloody, men and women he had grown up with had been put to the sword for refusing to surrender or tell him where Melantha and Edwyle had gone, and so he had made many corpses of the people he had once called friends, though in truth he had none. He hoped that his wife Lyanna and their daughters Serena and Randa were faring better than he was, they only deserved the best and he worried that perhaps he was not going to be able to provide that for them. Lyanna was a strong and smart woman who knew her way around the minefield of politics and knew how to make people like her, a gift that Serena their eldest daughter and Donnor’s heir for the time being seemed to share, Randa was quiet and reserved , and though both his daughters were young Serena being only four and Randa three, he knew that they would do themselves well and proud when they grew up.

 The clearing of Maester Lomys’ throat brought him back to reality. The man had been the maester of Winterfell since the time Donnor was a boy, and what he thought of Donnor, he did not truly want to know. “Yes Lomys what is it?” Donnor asked somewhat tiredly.

“Rodwell Wull and Lord Harmond are without my lord, as are Lords Karstark and Bolton.” Lomys replies.

Donnor nods and says. “Very well, send them in and shut the door behind you.” Lomys nods and soon enough his war generals are in the solar where Willam and their father sat once. “My lords,” he says once they are all seated. “I would have the news from the north and how our campaign is doing.”

Harmond, ever faithful and loyal Harmond speaks first. “My son Jon reports that the wildlings who were causing trouble near the gift have been dealt with sufficiently. They shall trouble us no more. He also writes that the men of the Night’s Watch have chosen a new lord commander. Ser Arthur Butterwell has been elected Lord Commander and has promised to keep a much more effective look out for the wildlings.”

Donnor nods, and then Rodwell his goodbrother speaks then. “There has been word from the south as well. Brandon has taken Moat Cailin, slaughtering the garrison that held it and battering Torrhen Reed’s host to bits. He controls everything from Widow’s Watch to Flint’s Finger now. And he also has mercenaries coming in from Essos, who rumour have it are actually men from the Golden Company.”

Donnor’s ears perk up at that and he asks. “Where do these rumours come from?”

Rodwell looks at him and then says. “From men my scouts have captured, who say that Ser Rodrik Stout is amongst the men who are fighting for your brother my lord.”

Donnor is silent for a moment contemplating this. “So it must be true then. For Rodrik was always Brandon’s confidant, and if the man is here and not with the Golden Company then it must truly mean my brother has sold himself off to the dragons, and not even the good kind. A shame, but not one that will change the course of this war.”

Lord Jonnel speaks then. “You believe that you can still win this war my lord? Even with the Moat fallen and our numbers significantly lower than your brother’s?”

Donnor nods and says. “The Riverlords and the Valelords have finally mobilises themselves. Brandon made an error by having White Harbour open its ports completely, and now he will be mobbed by angry Valemen determined to seat my nephew by Artos on the Winter throne. He will also face the Riverlords who are being led by men who now know the way through the swamps, and without the cranongmen there to help him he will be stuck between a rock and a hard place. I do believe he will lose this battle with the southerners.”

Lord Karstark speaks then and asks. “What would you have of us my lord?”

Donnor looks at his generals one at a time and says to each of them. “Lord Harmond I want you to return north, and aid the night’s watch in dealing with the wildlings once and for all.” Harmond nods. Donnor then turns to look at Lords Karstark and Bolton. “I want you two, to head south and begin raiding the strongholds Brandon has under his command, draw him out from where he is and break him against his own walls.” The two men nod.

Rodwell speaks then and asks. “And what of me my lord? What would you have the mountain clans do?”

Donnor looks at his oldest friend and says simply. “Give me Torrhen’s Square.”

\-------------

**Sixth Month of 230 A.L.: Riverrun**

**Rodrik ‘The Wandering Wolf’ Stark**

The war in the north still raged from what reports they had heard and received. Donnor and Brandon were at a stalemate with one another, but Brandon was fighting a war on two fronts now, for the Riverlords under Lord Brynden Tully had finally navigated the swamps of the neck and had begun attacking the Moat, according to the reports, a very bloody battle was raging between the two sides. Meanwhile Donnor remained in Winterfell and sat and brooded likely planning some form of new treachery or cruelty for the people of the north. Sometimes there were times when Rodrik regretted not taking up arms in this damn war his brothers had insisted on fighting, and then there were other times when he would look at his nephew Edwyle, and all he could see was Errold lying there broken and dead, and he would shake his head and say to himself that he was better off alive where he could protect his nephew from any harm that could come to him. More than he could say for his nephews Brandon and Benjen who had thrown themselves right into harm’s way, just like Artos would have done.

Life in Riverrun was at times boring and at times interesting. He despised having to wait around all day, for news and for more information. He was not greatly trusted by the men who had been left behind to guard Melantha and Edwyle by Ronald Blackwood, and he found that insulting, considering it had been him who had held her tight when she had been scared in Winterfell and it had been he who had seen her back to Riverrun safely. And at other times Riverrun could be very interesting, he enjoyed sparring with the southern knights who thought themselves better than him because of some letters in front of their names, he enjoyed sparring with and beating them, taking out his frustrations by beating them to a pulp. He also enjoyed training his nephew Edwyle, turning him into as fine a fighter a boy of seven could be. There was also other company he enjoyed greatly, though he had entertained a few serving women since being in Riverrun, he had never found quite so great a company as he did in Sharra Rivers, the bastard sister of Lord Brynden. The woman was a fiery lady both in and out of bed, and he loved sparring with her both verbally and in bed. She set his soul on fire and as such was someone he greatly enjoyed being with.

Of course just now he could not think on all that, he had come to meet Melantha in Riverrun’s godswood, a pathetic thing it was really but still he had come and he found her sat by the heart tree waiting for him. He bowed before her and sat on the opposite facing rock, waiting for her to speak, when she did her voice was quiet. “There has been word from the north, from my brother Ronald. They captured a man from Brandon’s army, who had been sent out scouting. He told them that Brandon had gone north to White Harbour to fight the army of the Vale and that rumour had it that he had killed Lord Rodrick Arryn as well as your nephew Brandon. They say he is marching back now with full force.”

Rodrik felt as if he had been slapped in the gut and for a moment he could say nothing until the words finally came out choked. “What more did your brother’s letter say?”

Melantha was silent for a moment until she replied. “Brandon has indeed sold himself to the Blackfyres. The man they captured was working for the Golden Company and says that Ser Rodrik Stout a man who we all know joined the golden company is leading their faction in the north. Why would he do it Rodrik? Why betray all Willam stood for?”

Rodrik was silent for a moment and then he said simply. “Because he was pragmatic Melantha. Because he has always been that way, he knew what would happen had he allowed Edwyle become Lord of Winterfell uncontested. Donnor would rise up and so would Errold and the north would be even more damaged than it is already.”

“And what he has done is truly what your brother would have wanted? That is the biggest load of nonsense I have ever heard Rodrik. I know you did not wish to fight them, but can you honestly defend them, knowing what they have cost the north and your nephew?” Melantha retorted.

Rodrik sighed and said. “Melantha, please can we not go over this again. You already know why I did not wish to fight my own kin, I would rather not have to go over this with you again when you already know the answer, and what my answer will be.”

Melantha snorted then and said. “Oh don’t give me that Rodrik. You have never told me why you refused to fight for Edwyle, you never told me why you refused to honour the oath you swore to my son when he became Lord of Winterfell. All you ever said was that you would not and could not fight. If you had perhaps we would still be in Winterfell and your brothers would either have seen sense or would be dead right now. Either way had you actually been man enough to stand up and fight, none of this mess would have happened.”

Rodrik felt anger boil up inside of him at his goodsister’s words, and Melantha seemed to have realised she had gone too far, for she began to speak up in apology, but Rodrik held a hand up and silenced her. “Do you truly wish to know why I refused to fight Melantha? Truly?” His goodsister nodded then and he said. “Very well then I shall tell you. I am no coward despite what these southern idiots might think, I could very well take my brothers on and win this war for your nephew. I could, and sometimes I wish that I had, but I will not. And that is because my father always taught us that brothers stick together no matter what, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives that was what he always used to say. To fight against my brothers is against all that my house stands for, and it would only add further shame to my father and brothers’ memories, and that is something I will not stand for.”


	8. Low Man's Lyric

**Eighth Month of 230 A.L. Outskirts of Torrhen’s Square**

**Lord Rodwell Wull**

The civil war within the north had been raging for some two years now, one Stark brother was dead and one had fled south. The two that remained were locked in combat with one another and both were refusing to give up. Whilst Rodwell viewed the war that had erupted as a tragedy for the north, it was also a tragic necessity to ensure a strong and independent northern kingdom, that was free from the bickering of the south and the wars of the south. His believe had remained through all the carnage he had seen, he supposed simply due to the fact that his belief in Donnor Stark had never wavered. Rodwell viewed Donnor as his brother in all but blood, and saw him as a good and just man and the best hope the north had at surviving independently of the Iron Throne. And that despite Donnor not being all that well liked, he was a good and capable ruler, whose extreme actions were only done in very extreme circumstances.

Though the war had taken Rodwell away from his home inside Wull Hill, his two sons Eddard and Donnor had come with him on the campaign and had grown from boys into men. Eddard his eldest son and heir, was a strong lad, a good fighter with an axe or hammer, he would be a good chieftain when his time came. Donnor, his second son was decent with a sword, but was much better in planning a battle, much like his namesake, and as such was able to inspire loyalty with their men. All in all Rodwell was proud of his two sons and he knew that they would make fine lords and men when their time came, he simply hoped that he could be around to hold his own grandchildren in his arms, as his father had not been able to do.

Of course before such a thing could be considered there was the issue of Torrhen’s Square to be considered. After the battle of the Wolfswood, Roose Tallhart had retreated into his castle and had sealed the gates shut, he had also taken whatever supplies of food and other such necessities inside with him before completely closing his gates. Helman Glover had been laying siege to the square for the better part of a year now and to little luck. It was why Rodwell was here, to end the siege and make Roose see sense. Of course before that could be done he needed to get an exact understanding of the situation hence why he had called a war council. Helman Glover was the first one to speak. “My lord, I am telling you peaceful negotiations with Roose Tallhart shall not work. The man is too bloody stupid to realise when he is beat, and as such the only way we can get him to surrender his to threaten what little of his family is left.”

Rodwell looked at the man and asked. “And which members of Roose’s family do we have then Helman? As far as I can recall, his two sons died during the battle of the Wolfswood, his daughter is safely tucked away in Oldcastle and his wife is dead. There is just him left is there not?”

Helman is silent at that and Rodwell worries that this siege will not end soon, that is until Eddard Fowl speaks up. “There is the bastard my lords.” At a look from Rodwell, the man elaborates. “Roose’s brother Benjen had a bastard by one of his cousin’s when he was a lad, Roose kept it a secret from almost everyone, but the bastard has grown up relatively happy and safe in Torrhen’s Square until recently where she left the castle and was caught by our men. I am sure if we were to threaten her life Roose would surrender.”

Rodwell was silent for a moment before he asked. “And how sure are you that Roose would give up his freedom for a girl whom is not even directly blood related to him?”

“Very my lord.” Fowl said. “Roose and Benjen Tallhart were very close growing up, and when Benjen died during the last Blackfyre rebellion Roose was very torn up. He swore to protect his brother’s bastard daughter with his life if it came down to it. And so I say that is our ticket to ending this damnable siege and giving Lord Donnor one more foot on the north.”

Rodwell is silent a moment as he thinks about it and then sighing he says. “Very well bring the girl. We shall ride for the gates of the square and demand to speak to Roose, and see what the man has to say himself.”

That done, later that afternoon they ride through the snow and the dirt to the gates of Torrhen’s Square where the banners of both House Tallhart and the Black Wolf of Brandon Stark fly high. “Roose Tallhart!” Rodwell bellows. “We have your niece Roose. Come out and surrender and offer fealty to Donnor Stark Lord of Winterfell and King in the North and your niece shall be spared. Do this or she shall die.”

There was silence for a long moment and then the gates of the square opened and Roose Tallhart and a man Rodwell recognised as Lonnel Cassel rode out. Roose looked at his niece and then turned to look at Rodwell. “I had thought you a man of greater honour than this Wull. I had thought you would at least engage in battle. But not, you are just as despicable as your lord. Using a girl to threaten me, a girl who has done nothing wrong. Tell me why should I believe you that you will spare her should I surrender. Your Lord and King is nothing but a tyrant.”

Rodwell is silent for a moment and then drawing his dagger, pulls the girl towards him and presses the blade to her throat. “Surrender my lord, otherwise the girl will die right now. And your castle will be set a fire. It is not what I wish to do, nor is it what the King wishes to happen. But if you refuse to see that Brandon Stark is done, then you shall perish with him.”

Tallhart’s eyes go wide, and he looks hopelessly at his bastard niece before saying resignedly. “Very well, I surrender.” He gets of his horse and gets to one knee before Rodwell. “If you let my niece go, I shall pledge whatever oaths you would have of me, and give you whatever men you want from me. Just let my niece go.”

Rodwell dismounts as well and helps the man to his feet once more and says. “That is all King Donnor asks of you.”

* * *

 

**10 th Month of 230 A.L. Moat Cailin**

**Ser Rodrik Stout**

The war in the north was still going strong, Brandon and Donnor Stark were waging battles with their men as the pawns and them as the players. Brandon had gone and smashed the Valemen who had landed at White Harbour, killing Rodrik Arryn, and his own nephew and namesake Brandon Stark. Jonos Royce and Benjen Stark had retreated with the battered remains of the Vale host to the Sisters and were plotting more invasions no doubt. Whilst his friend had been in White Harbour, Rodrik had been given command of the garrison at Moat Cailin and had had to deal with the Riverlander force that had come marching up the causeway. Without the cranongmen there to aid them, Rodrik had been forced to rely on the swamps and natural terrain of the neck to cause hindrances to the Riverlanders. As such their force had been much less intimidating than what it had originally been numbered to be, and when they came smashing into the walls of the Moat, Rodrik had simply had to let his archers and the walls of the Moat do most of the hard work. Of course when it looked like the Riverlands would break, he had ridden out and cut down many of their most powerful lords in a mad dash, Lord Brynden Tully was dead as was Lord Ronald Blackwood and Lord Desmond Piper. The rest had retreated and were not likely to be plotting another invasion anytime soon.

With the riverlander forces done, Rodrik had had time to think about the war and his own association with the Golden Company. He believed the war a tragedy but the only way for the north to truly benefit from any sort of dealings with the south was to have Brandon as Lord of Winterfell and sitting on the winter throne, so that when the Blackfyres finally did sit the Iron Throne, they could get the best of the situation. As for the Golden Company he viewed the mercenary company as family, real band of brothers that had each other’s backs through thick and thin, a feeling that had been reinforced by the fact that it had been Aegor Rivers who had aided him during his early days in Essos, and as such Rodrik did feel a certain sense of loyalty towards the man.

Of course his true loyalty was to Brandon, the man who was sitting next to him in the smoky hall of the Children’s tower, looking forlorn. Various other lords were present as well, Lord Dustin, Lord Manderly, Lord Locke, both Lord Flints and finally Rodrik’s own father Cregan Stout. “Tell the lords what you told me some time ago Beric.” His father said to the boy standing before them.

Beric nodded and said. “Lord Ryswell’s host was smashed at Castle Cerwyn my lords. Donnor Stark himself was there and saw to Lord Ryswell himself. His men were broken and slaughtered and Cerwyn Castle remains in the hands of Donnor Stark and his men.”

“How did you manage to escape then Beric? If Lord Ryswell’s host was completely destroyed?” Lord Dustin asked.

The boy looked sheepish then and said simply. “I was with the rearguard my lords. I managed to get away with some of the other men before the true carnage began. And I was told to come back here and report of the defeat to you.”

“Who by?” Was what Lord Locke asked.

“By Lord Cerwyn himself my lord. He came and found me before the rout truly began and told me to head south back here.” Beric said.

Rodrik looked at his friend and saw that he was deep in thought, but he did not seem to be truly there with them, and so Rodrik nodded at the boy and said. “Thank you Beric, you may go now.” The boy bowed and left. Once he was gone Rodrik turned to the assembled lords and said. “And so Donnor Stark now has won victories at the White Knife, Cerwyn and he has taken Torrhen’s Square without having to shed blood. The man’s hold on the north is growing stronger, and our own numbers are shirking.”

Lord Dustin spoke then. “Bolton and Karstark used unhonourable methods to win at White Knife, using the sun and fake ploys that any decent man would fall for to win is not how we should be. If those are the lords Donnor Stark surrounds himself with he shall not last long.”

“And yet he holds most of the north now. We might hold the richer parts of the north, but he holds the parts with the most men to offer and the hardest earned loyalty. It will take time before we can finally wean him away from Winterfell. For the man is too cautious by half.” Rodrik countered

Brandon spoke then his voice soft. “There is only one way to beat Donnor and that is to play the game that he is currently playing. We wait, and sooner or later one of his lords will get impatient and they will make a rash move and that is when we shall pounce.”

“But who would do that? After all we all know what Donnor is like my lord, and the man terrifies most of his allies, and they will not wish to disturb the momentum he has gotten going with their own rashness surely.” Rodrik’s father said.

Brandon is silent for a moment before he says simply. “Harmond Umber would not fight against Donnor’s orders, but Glover and Norrey might and they are the ones that will need working on. Karstark and Bolton too have their own ambitions and it is time we played on them.”

“How though? They are the ones pushing for northern independence, and they are not likely to get that with you my lord.” Lord Dustin said.

Brandon merely smiled and said softly. “We wait, and their alliance shall crumble. And then, then we move out and we crush Donnor like the bug he is.”


	9. A Man Without Purpose

**11 th Month of 230A.L. King’s Landing**

**King Maekar I Targaryen**

It was true what they said, a parent’s worst nightmare was losing their children before they themselves died. Maekar had known that pain when Daella’s body had come floating before him, and now he knew that pain twice over. Aerion had died in battle just as his sanity had seemed better, and now Daeron had died of a pox he had caught from a whore. Maekar felt like the gods were punishing him for the sins he had committed, or that his family had committed and he ached with sorrow everytime he saw Naerys walking around with a vacant look in her eyes. Her pain was amplified in his own eyes and mind, and yet his grandson by Aerion, Maegor was now his heir, the boy was but a babe, and so far seemed a sweet babe, but there was a worry in Maekar’s mind, he was old now and he knew that he had not long to live, he worried what would happen should he die and Maegor became king as a child.

It was an issue that plagued him most of the times, and it was something he thought over and rapt his mind around almost daily. It was also something his council discussed at great length as they were doing now. “A council might need to be called to settle the matter once and for all.” Lord Daeron Velaryon said. “After all Bracken is more than likely going to want his grandson on the throne but then again the Massey family might want Daeron’s daughter on the throne as well, after all they do not seem to want to give up the power they have accumulated.”

Aegon spoke then. “Little Baela cannot become Queen, not whilst Maegor or myself and my children remain alive. But I can see Lord Massey trying something like that. He is nowhere as honourable as his father was, and as such he might ally with those men who Aerion angered during his life.”

“What would you suggest then? A great council would do more than just settle the matter, it would bring the Blackfyres into consideration and there are those who do believe the black dragon is the rightful ruler of Westeros still.” Lord Beesbury said.

Maekar saw his son run a hand over his head and heard him sigh. “Exactly which is why I fear what could happen. A great council need not be called, but Maegor is a babe and as such he might be challenged, and the Blackfyres will cause havoc the minute they realise Maegor is on the throne. I suppose we can only hope that you live to see Maegor a man grown Your Grace.”

Maekar looked at his son then and smiled wryly. “And here I was thinking that I might finally have earnt some rest. But no, what you say makes sense, I will endeavour to stay alive long enough to see Maegor a man grown. Of course Bittersteel is more than likely plotting another invasion right around now. Lord Osgrey what news do you have of the war in the north?”

Osgrey was silent a moment before he said simply. “It would appear that Donnor Stark continues to hold the advantage Your Grace. Though Brandon Stark managed to repel the Riverlords back to behind the neck and back into the Riverlands, the Valemen under Jonos Royce and Jasper Arryn have launched another invasion from the Sisters and this time it seems they are gaining some footway.”

Maekar nodded and then asked. “What have they taken in the north and who are they fighting for now?”

Osgrey looked down at his notes and then said. “Oldcastle has fallen to the Valemen, and House Locke is down to two girls, the daughters of Lord Locke. Widow’s Watch is under siege now and another force of men is heading towards Moat Cailin from the east. Brandon Stark will find his forces stretched very thin. And of course they fight for Benjen Stark son of Artos Stark. They continue to deny the existence of Edwyle Stark or his sister Branda.”

Maekar sighed then and said. “Would that this had never happened. Edwyle Stark I fear must grow up in exile in Riverrun or Raventree Hall. For the throne cannot afford to send more men northwards at this moment.”

“Will you give the throne’s blessing to the Vale’s war for Benjen Stark then Your Grace? After all after Edwyle, the boy has the best claim to Winterfell.” Aegon asked.

Maekar shook his head and said. “No, the throne must continue to support Edwyle Stark otherwise a very dangerous precedent will be set and we will find more war being waged in Westeros than would be healthy. Besides, I am beginning to think that perhaps Donnor Stark might be the only preferred victor of this conflict for the throne.”

There was a shocked silence and then Aegon spoke up. “Surely you don’t mean that Your Grace? If Donnor Stark wins, the north will become independent and we will be forced by duty to have to actually get involved to fight to make it part of Westeros once more. And then the Blackfyres will most definitely invade and we shall be stuck on two fronts.”

Maekar sighed and took a sip of wine before he replied. “Aye, but Donnor Stark would give us a moment’s respite and allow us to collect our thoughts. Also the man is by all accounts a Tyrant, and so should he become King, it would not take long before his people realise what a bad choice he is as their ruler, and they should turn back to the throne and that would be when Edwyle Stark shall return as victorious.”

Aegon looked at him then and asked. “And what if they don’t? What if they keep fighting behind Donnor Stark even when it would be better that he be removed for the good of the north?”

Maekar sighed then and said simply. “Then we shall have to let the north go.”

* * *

 

**12 th Month of 230 A.L. Starpike**

**Lord Matthew Peake**

His family had once been great, House Peake had been one of the foremost houses at the court of King Aegon IV and King Daeron the Young Dragon. Their decline had begun under the reign of the Falseborn and when Matthew’s great grandfather Gormon had sided with Daemon Blackfyre the true Dragon, they had lost pretty much everything when the black dragon had died. The second rebellion had cost them Lord Gormon and even Matthew’s grandfather had lost his own life, to Bloodraven’s harsh justice. And so Matthew’s own father Damon had remained neutral when the Black Dragon had invaded eleven years ago, determined to preserve the one thing that they had left Starpike. But it was a bitter pill for Matthew to swallow, growing up he had heard all the tales of the brave deeds his ancestors had done, and now he looked at his house and saw nothing but ruins and decay and it angered him.

His own family, was beginning to see the rise of the family once more. His wife Saera was beautiful a woman from Volantis with connections to wealth, wealth he had used to repair Starpike to its former glory and to buy back one of the castles they had lost during the first rebellion. His three children were also growing into strong and proud warriors, his eldest and heir Arthur was a good lad, with a good head on his shoulders, smart and good with a sword he would make a fine lord when the time came. His second son Berros was a quiet lad, grim and solemn but someone who as a squire to Lord Corbray was getting battle experience in the north and was slowly learning the weaknesses of the both the north and the Vale, something that could be useful when the time came. As for his third son Alton, Alton was a quiet sort who barely said anything and when he did usually it was to his mother, and that was that. All in all Matthew was determined to see his house rise from its decline, stronger and better than before.

The first step of that plan involved exposing the frailties within the Reach and the Throne’s hold on the Reach. As such Matthew was meeting with Lords Appleton, Costayne, the red apple Fossoways, Rowan and Ser Malcolm Tyrell who was there on his brother Lord Otto’s orders. Matthew looked at them all and spoke. “Welcome to Starpike my lords, I hope you find it to your liking. Now we are here to discuss the Iron Throne and its preoccupation with the north. Now war has been raging in the north for nearly three years now, and as such the north will be nothing but a shell when all the fighting is done. Furthermore King Maekar has aged several years during this conflict and his heir is but a child. Now there is a chance for us to get something out of all of this, and if we are to do that we must discuss the most effective way of doing so.”

Lord Rowan spoke then his voice clipped. “What would you suggest Lord Matthew? Rebellion might serve well but it depends on what form it comes in.”

Matthew was silent a moment and then said. “We start by refusing to pay taxes to the throne. We pay those we owe to Highgarden but whatever due to the throne we refuse and we shall refuse and refuse.”

Lord Rowan nodded, and Lord Appleton spoke. “That should be easily done, after all I doubt the king even looks at the bills from the taxes. Nor does that fool Beesbury. But what then, when they do eventually realise what we have been doing?”

Ser Malcolm spoke then. “Well King Maekar will demand an answer for this, and my brother will tell him that he has been trying to get one from you lot, and that you have been refusing to pay these taxes. And then should all go accordingly the king himself will march for the Reach and that is where the battle begins.”

Lord Costayne spoke then his voice high and reedy. “That is a very risky move my lords. First of all it puts us in grave danger of actually bringing attention to ourselves, secondly there is no guarantee that Lord Tyrell will do as you say Ser Malcolm. Forgive me but your brother has been known to flit between plots like a whore flits between lovers. It could all end up in smoke with all of our heads on spikes.”

Matthew feared for a moment that Ser Malcolm would bristle with anger but he merely laughed then and said. “That is a fair enough comment my lord. But trust me when I say that Otto is committed to this cause more now so than ever before. After all King Maekar has given the Reach Many slights, as has House Targaryen over the years and it is time that those slights were addressed. We shall stand behind you and your plot.”

There was a murmur of agreement then, but then Lord Peter Fossoway of the red apple Fossoways spoke up and his voice held a sneer in it. “And what has brought about this sudden change in loyalties from Highgarden Ser? What insults have the Targaryens dealt you that they have not dealt houses of higher repute?”

At this Matthew did see Ser Malcolm become taut, but his voice was eerily calm when he said. “I will not share family matters with you Fossoway. But know this, House Tyrell wants what is best for the Reach and at this present time that is to support its bannermen in their reluctance to pay taxes to the Iron Throne. When the time comes, you shall be grateful for our support in this matter.”

There was silence then and then Matthew spoke up. “Now that that is settled, are we ready to agree to this?” Once the lords nodded, and had signed the document brought before them, Matthew felt much more at ease. Step one in his plan had been done, now it was up to the gods to see what happened next.


	10. Fall of a Tyrant

**3 rd Month of 231 A.L.: Barrowlands**

**Lord Harrion Karstark**

The war had been raging for three years now, and in that time winter had come and laid claim to the rest of the north. The grounds were covered in snow and bodies and blood, and the people moved from one job to the next in some sort of hopeless resignation as if knowing that their fate was already sealed. Truly it was a tragedy as far as Harrion was concerned but it was something that needed to be done in order to ensure that the north could remain independent in every sense of the word, and that Donnor Stark was the right man for the job. Harrion also hoped that once Donnor emerged successful he would be able to establish a few cadet branches in various places to replace those houses that had rebelled against the king. After all he did have seven sons and two daughters and he needed somewhere to put all of them.

After an initial surge of activity and then months of nothing, the war had picked up once again and King Donnor now had control over half of the north, and the king’s brother Brandon controlled the southern north. And yet Donnor remained in firm control, for Brandon had been experiencing a decline in his numbers due to conflicts with the Vale and the Riverlands, as well as the winter being strongest in its maladies in the southern north. And hence, Harrion was further convinced that perhaps Donnor would emerge victorious, which was why he had felt honoured that the King had given him command over some 6,000 men with which to assault Brandon Stark’s stronghold in the Barrowlands and potentially put an end to the pretender. Harrion was not as knowledgeable of the Barrowlands as some of his commanders were, and so he had called a council to discuss what needed to be done. Roose Tallhart, a man with much more experience spoke first. “Our riders report that Brandon Stark himself has ridden forth from Moat Cailin alongside Ser Rodrik Stout and some 5,000 men and has set up shop quite close to where his castle stands between Barrowtown and where we currently are. Some 20 miles west of here.”

Lord Jonnel speaks then his voice cold as ice. “Aye, 20 miles and a death march indeed. Perfect, just the setting we need to remove Brandon Stark and his allies from the north and finish this war off once and for all.”

Rickard, Harrion’s eldest son and heir speaks up then. “That might not be the case my lord. After all we are now in Brandon Stark’s territory, and as such he will know all the quickest ways to get around whatever men we send out to face him. If we are to end the man then we must send out our full force, which brings its own risks, considering the men from the Vale are lurking somewhere close by.”

Lord Bolton speaks then. “And where are they lurking? In Oldcastle? I think not, no they have retreated across the bite with their tails between their legs, now that Brandon Stark holds Benjen Stark captive. Now is the time to strike.”

Again Rickard spoke up voicing doubts Harrion himself had. “But do we truly know that that is the case? There has been no word from Edwyn Cassel as to the location of Vale forces or the men that Brandon sent out to fight them. Do we even know that Brandon Stark is amongst the men that is camped within the Barrowlands?”

“It matters not what we know, all that matters is that King Donnor has given us orders and it is our duty to follow them whether we like them or not.” Bolton countered. “We have been told do deal with this threat in the Barrowlands and that is what we should do. Otherwise we shall all grow old and die here in the snow if we take your course of action.”

Harrion nodded and said. “He is right son. We must act, and we must act now. Jonnel shall command the right, Roose you shall command the left, Rickard you shall command the centre and I shall command the van. We ride out in three hours.” With that the meeting ended, and three hours later they were all armoured and ready for battle. Roose Tallhart rode out first with some 900 men from Torrhen’s Square, he made up the left, and once he had disappeared and after about twenty minutes had passed, Harrion nodded and Jonnel Bolton rode out with the right and some 3,000 men from the Dreadfort. Soon, enough time had passed that it was time for the van and the centre to ride out and so they did.

When they arrived at the battle, they found that they had been led into a massacre, there was perhaps only 2,000 men fighting under the black direwolf of Brandon Stark here, and they were being cleaned up by the right and the left of his army. Harrion decided they would finish the job, and drawing his sword led the charge. They smashed into what was left of the army, and Harrion began hacking and slashing his way through the men, cutting them down like they were nothing but bags of meat. His sword soon became stained red with blood, and the snow laden ground became littered with bodies, his blood began to sing, on and on it went, swinging and hacking and soon enough he knew that victory would come.

That was until a horn sounded and the fighting stopped for a brief moment, and Harrion saw the moon and falcon banners of House Arryn and the black iron studs of House Royce approaching them, supported by the black direwolf of Brandon Stark. They had been led into a trap, and when the two armies met, it was pure carnage. Harrion swung his sword, left and right, left and right and though he cut down many men, more just seemed to appear out of nowhere and soon enough his body became littered with bruises, and his mind became slow. Harrion Karstark was slain by a knight of the Vale, during the battle of the Weeping Ridge, his body covered with dents and blood. He died at the age of forty and three, his army broke and fled, and the collapse of Donnor Stark’s allies had begun.

* * *

 

**5 th Month of 231 A.L. Winterfell**

**Lady Lyanna Stark nee Wull**

War was always an ugly, thing she could never understand why men were so fascinated by it. The songs painted one picture, and reality another, and Lyanna had always been taught to see the reality and not the songs. Her husband did not like war she knew, he was a solitary figure who would have been happy living with her and their daughters Serena and Randa in their castle in the mountains, but once his brother Artos had died she knew he had needed to do his duty. The southerners were growing to influential in Winterfell, and the Starks had begun to lose their strength and their strongholds. Donnor was needed to stop that, and he was doing that, he had defeated Errold that ignorant wolf pup, he had forced baby Edwyle to flee and he had allowed his brother to take on the mantle of the kinslayer by having Artos’ sons Brandon and Benjen killed. She knew this all weighed heavily on him, but she knew he was the right man for the job, the right man to see the north free and independent of southern control.

Though Donnor was often described as cold and heartless, Lyanna had never thought of him as such, to her and their daughters he was a kind and loving husband and father. Serena was just like him, in her mannerisms and her way of speaking, she wanted to be just like Donnor and that thought both amused and worried Lyanna somewhat. Randa their youngest was more bold and outgoing and as such had managed to win over many people to their side in Winterfell. Of course her daughters were young yet, five and three respectively, and Lyanna still hoped for a son, so that her husband’s line might be secured. They coupled regularly and yet her womb did not quicken with his seed and she grew worried. Donnor did not seem to mind and he insisted that Serena would follow him as Queen of the North, but Lyanna knew that some of the lords would demand either an heir to that he take a new wife, or they would seek to remove Donnor subtly and that made Brandon even more dangerous.

Of course when her husband enters their shared chambers after a long council session and sits down and simply stares at the wall for a long time she grows worried. “Donnor?” She asks tentatively. “My love?” she asks when he does not respond. She gets up from her chair and goes to him taking his hand in hers. “Donnor, my love whatever is the matter? Why do you look so forlorn and as if all the joy in the world has been taken from you?”

Donnor looks at her then and his eyes seem so broken that she can’t help but take his face in her hands. Her husband is silent for a long moment and then he says. “There has been word from the south.” He pauses then and looks at her again and says. “Lord Karstark and his men were butchered in the Barrowlands. It appears my brother managed to ally with the Valelords still remaining in the north and used Ser Rodrik Stout and some 2,000 men from his allies as bait to lure Lord Karstark into a trap. The Valelords and Brandon attacked them from behind. Karstark and his heir were slain, Bolton was killed as well and his heir captured. Roose Tallhart switched sides and completed the rout. Karstark and Bolton bannermen have fled and have retreated behind their castles, and Lord Hornwood now stands and asks me what I mean to do.”

Her husband seems so despondent that there must be more. “What other news has there been my love?”

Donnor looks at her again and says. “My lords are crumbling under pressure. Tallhart has rejoined Brandon, and Glover has blockaded himself away in Deepwood Motte and refuses to come out and fight. Brandon has also begun a push back, Malcolm Cerwyn through open the gates of Castle Cerwyn for him and his men, and now they are but half a day’s ride away. Harmond Umber has been sent to deal with men from Hornwood who are fighting for Brandon but I doubt he will emerge successful. The cause is dying around me, and I know not what to do.”

“You hold on my love. That is what you must do. The mountain clans still follow you, as do the Boltons and the Karstarks. Lord Umber follows you and so do the people of Last Hearth. Glover will be made to see sense, and the Mormonts and the Skagosi also still follow you. Brandon and the Valelords will begin arguing and fighting amongst themselves soon enough. You can still win this my love, you just have to hold out for a little while longer.”

Donnor seems to take strength from her words for when he responds his voice is harder. “Aye, that is true my love. I still hold the allegiance of the most powerful northern lords and as such can still dictate the course of this war. Brandon is expending his energy trying maintain the peace between his allies in the north and those from the south and from Essos. That is a coalition that will not last for very long. Sooner or later it will come tumbling down around him and I shall be there to end it once and for all.”

Lyanna nods encouragingly and says. “That’s right Your Grace, you shall sit the winter throne as you were meant to. Now enough talk, make love to me Your Grace and let’s put a wolf pup in my belly.” And so they lose themselves to passion and lovemaking for the next few hours, and once her husband is sated and asleep she lies in his arms and prays to the gods that she is right and the her husband will win this war, and that she will bear him a son. Otherwise she dreads to think what will become of her beloved home and family.


	11. Rise and Fall

**Fifth Month of 231 A.L. Last River**

**Lord Harmond Umber**

The north was in a shambles that was what three years of fighting and winter did to a land and its people. Harmond knew from seeing with his own eyes that the people of the north were growing weary of war and the deaths and destruction that it caused. Hells Harmond, the Drunken Giant himself was growing weary of war and yet he was determined to remain loyal to King Donnor to his last breath, the man was their king and he would make a fine king. The thought of taking orders from Brandon Stark the black dragon’s puppet made him choke inside and the thought of doing anything with that man, who had had his son Jon killed angered him more than he could say.  No he would deal with the treacherous Hornwoods and Karstarks and then he would return to his king’s side and they would deal with Brandon Stark once and for all.

Of course now with Jon dead, Harmond’s third son Hoarfrost was now his heir, what with his elder brother Beron on the wall. The lad was tall and thickly built like most men from their house, but unlike Jon he had a greater cunning to him than most Umbers had, a similar cunning that King Donnor had, and as such Harmond wondered if perhaps his son might have had something to do with Jon’s death but he often pushed such thoughts aside. The other lords who joined him during this war council were Lord Brandon Mormont a fierce and proud man, Artos Burley and Lord Dickon Ashwood. Harmond spoke then his voice harsh and to the point. “We all know why we are here. Lords Devon Hornwood and Hothar Karstark have forgotten their allegiances to the one true king of the North, and have joined together to begin causing problems for the Boltons. And as much as I never thought to say this, as Bolton has sworn himself to King Donnor’s cause we must go in and aid him. We shall need to discuss how their troops are positioned. Lord Dickon if you would.”

Dickon Ashwood was a quiet man who said little unless asked and this was one of those times. “Aye, well we know from the scouts reports that Lord Hornwood has positioned his troops to the southern gates of the Dreadfort, the place where the castle has become weakest following three years of war and snow. Lord Karstark has sent men to attack the eastern and southern gates as well.”

“So the man himself has not yet marched forth from Karhold?” Hoarfrost asked.

Ashwood shook his head. “No, he remains in Karhold according to what the scouts have been able to work out. It is his brother Arthor who commands the men from Karhold and they are not assaulting the Dreadfort from the north as one might expect. I do believe that there might be something a foot there though.”

“Like what?” Brandon Mormont asked. “What could possibly be about to occur. This is Lords Karstark and Hornwood, not the most cunning of men. Men who until recently never thought they would be lords of their respective houses. What cunning could they have planned out that could outfox us now?”

Hoarfrost looked to Harmond then and Harmond nodded and his son spoke more confidently. “Well my lords, we all know that Hothar Karstark has more battle experience than almost any other man in the north other than Donnor Stark. And as such he will be using that experience and his knowledge of the north to plot something that could possibly benefit his house and his cause whatever that might be, to the most maximum point. Hence I say we must tread carefully and attack from the south and take on Hornwood’s men and then lead Karstark’s men to us.”

“How do you suggest we do that then? I doubt Karstark will fall for the trap as easily as Hornwood would.” Lord Ashwood says.

Burley seems to have caught on to what his son is suggesting and asks. “Lord Ashwood, when your scouts came back to report on the movements of the Hornwood troops did they leave a trail as they were instructed to do?”

Ashwood seemed very angry to have had his methods questioned and said. “Of course they did.”

Hoarfrost speaks then. “Well then, that is how we bring the Karstarks to the fold and have them fall for the trap. Hornwood and his men will be marching towards as we speak and we must be ready for them and drown them in the river.”

Sure enough some time later, Harmond found himself armoured and mounted and fighting men with the moose of House Hornwood on their armour. He swung his greatsword, hacking and slashing away at the men who came before him, cutting them down one at a time, sometimes two at a time. His sword grew red with blood and though he started growing weary and tired he kept on fighting, swinging his sword left and right, hacking and slashing, cutting men down as they came. He continued swinging his sword as the Hornwood men began to fade down into nothingness, his sword and armour were caked in blood and still he kept fighting.

Eventually, the Karstarks appeared their sunburst sending anger rippling down Harmond’s already tired body. He roared and charged forward slashing and hacking as he went, cutting down more of their men, on and on he went, hacking and slashing, the Karstark men seemed almost to melt before him. They were almost too easy to kill something was up, but what it was he was not sure.  Eventually he cottoned on and saw that he was completely separated from the rest of his men, and was surrounded by archers and spearmen, who at the command of one of the men who was mounted began firing and attacking him. Arrows pierced his armour, and four of the arrows brought down his horse. He roared and rushed at the spearmen bringing two of them down before the arrows began to weigh him down. He eventually fell down into the snow, not dead but barely alive.

When he came too he found himself looking at Hothar Karstark who grinned at him and said. “The Drunken Giant felled by the sun of Winter, how nice a change. Your part in this war is done my lord of Umber.”

* * *

 

**7 th Month of 231 A.L. King’s Landing**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

There were times where Aegon Targaryen prince of Summerhall wondered whether his family had always been this chaotic and infuriating. When he had been growing up, Aegon had spent much of his time travelling with Dunk, a hedge knight who was now a member of the Kingsguard. Aegon, had therefore missed a lot of the drama and the internal politicking that Rhae had since filled him in on. He barely remembered his grandfather and his uncle Baelor, simply remembering them with faded mental images, as good men who were taken before their time. King Aerys was even more faded in his memory, a bookish man who failed to do his duty to the kingdom and get an heir on Aunt Aelinor who herself was lovely and everything Aegon had thought was good about their family. Valarr and Matarys were people Aegon had never known and people he had never wished to know. Daeron a drunkard and Aerion a bastard who should have been killed at childbirth, Daella, gods his thoughts were plagued with Daella, her body lying crumpled and broken, her son gone with the Blackfyre scum. It was during such times that he often took hold of Rhae and their children and held them close, as close as could be and he prayed Aemon was safe on Dragonstone. His children, Duncan who had just turned fifteen was as good a warrior as Aegon had been at seventeen and was even more the charmer, Jaehaerys was frail but incredibly smart, Rhaelle was fierce and proud, and little Aelix was smart and kind and doted upon. Aegon was very happy that his family was safe and sound and that they would hopefully not know the pain that might come once King Maekar died.

Of course there were those who wished to end the peace that Aegon had found in his life, the north was still rife with war and the Reacher lords were causing havoc. Lord Beesbury the master of coin spoke with a sense of urgency. “The Lords Peake, Appleton, Costayne and Rowan have all defaulted on paying their taxes to the Iron Throne for the past seven months Your Grace. And all letters sent to Highgarden demanding that Lord Otto Tyrell find out what the cause of this all is, have gone either unanswered or have been given very vague responses and promises to find out the root cause.”

Aegon speaks then. “Is there any cause for us to believe that Lord Otto is actually working with these rebels and as such is not being as honest with us as we would like to believe?”

Lord Beesbury is silent for a moment and then says. “I do not believe so my prince. After all the man has always stood by the throne, as has his family, during the Dance and the Blackfyre rebellion they stood firmly behind the rightful claimants to the throne. I do not think that Lord Otto would forget such a thing for some of his more minor and troublesome bannermen.”

Lord Osgrey the master of whispers speaks then and says. “You forget my lord, that Lord Otto is not his father nor is he is grandfather. The man is more ambitious and wants to see his blood on the throne. That his brother Ser Malcolm was present at a meeting between the lords mentioned in the letter, and given that all of these lords are Blackfyre loyalists suggests to me that perhaps there might be more to it than we all think.”

“What do you mean by that my lord?” Aegon asks. “Do you think the Tyrells are colluding with the Blackfyres to put them on the throne?”

Lord Osgrey is silent a moment and then says. “I am merely suggesting that we should not rule it out. After all the Tyrell words are Growing Strong for a reason, and perhaps Lord Otto believes that they have grown as far as they can under the Targaryens, and wish to see a new royal family installed on the throne so that they can develop their ambitions further.”

Aegon looked at his father then, but King Maekar was still very, very silent. And so he turned to his cousin Daeron Velaryon and asked him. “What word does the ship captains bring of what is happening in the Reach my lord? What news has Lord Redwyne given you?”

Lord Daeron was silent for a moment before he said. “Lord Redwyne tells me that his cousin has been very cryptic with him as well as to what he intends to do about all the fuss being created by Lord Peake and Lord Costayne. Trade between Starpike and the Arbor has been encouraged though, as has trade between the Arbor and Tyrosh where we all know who resides. It seems that the man’s claws are in this plot and perhaps a more refined rebellion could be coming.”

Maekar speaks then and Aegon is so relieved to hear his father’s voice he nearly sighs. “Then it is a case of Bittersteel trying to get more of a foothold in Westeros than what he had had last time he invaded.” His father’s jaw clenches and Aegon knows he is thinking of Daella, lying there crumpled and bloody... “If Tyrell truly is working with these men then Bittersteel will have a much bigger support base than he did last time. The fact that Rowan is also a part of this group suggests to me that something is going on. Whatever it is, it has gone on for long enough.”

“What do you suggest we do then Your Grace?” Lord Osgrey asked.

“Lord Peake is the main man behind this whole resistance correct?” Osgrey nods. “Then we call our men together and we prepare to march on Starpike and we show House Peake the sort of justice that they should have been shown a long, long time ago. Peake wants a fight and he shall get it. The Iron Throne will end him and his, as we should have done when they rebelled the first time.” The king said his tone like iron.


	12. Afterlife

**Ninth Month of 231 A.L. Winterfell**

**King Donnor Stark**

Oh how his body ached, the wounds from the battle filled him with a lot of certainty that he would not make it through the night, and yet still he waited. He waited for his little brother to come home just as he had done for many years before this damnable war, that he had started had begun. As he waited, he thought on the events that had led to this moment, with Harmond Umber dead in captivity, and his son Hoarfrost having sealed Last Hearth shut, Donnor had known that the campaign was over his fate was sealed. He had spent one last day and night with his wife and children, committing their faces to memory and how Serena sounded when she laughed and how it filled him with love to see Randa playing with her mother. Once that day was done, he sent them in the night to the Mountain Castle where he and Lyanna had wed before the war had begun, he had entrusted their safety to Rodwell and he knew that they would make it there safe and sound.

The war had raged for three years now, and Donnor could appreciate just how destructive it had been. The forces of the north were completely depleted and there would be much that his brother would need to do in order to heal the tensions and rifts that the war had opened. The north would take time to heal and to be reunited behind Winterfell and its lord once this war ended as it surely would. After all the battle of the woods had seen to it that the last of Donnor’s mounted strength had been crushed by Brandon’s men and his allies in the Vale. Donnor had watched as his army had disintegrated against the combined might of Brandon’s men and the Valelords. Donnor himself had gotten engaged in a duel with his brother and had received several wounds, all of which were now proving to be fatal, and yet despite it all Donnor had managed to use some of his remaining tactical mind to beat back Brandon and his army, for long enough to organise a retreat back to Winterfell, where he was now being seen to.

Donnor had of course ordered his remaining men to flee back to their homes and had given them permission to do as they see fit once they were there. He knew that Brandon had been hot on his heels and as such, would be in Winterfell within the next few hours, he had had not wish to see those who had followed him loyally suffer needlessly now, if he could spare them that pain he would. He had simply asked for his servants to set up a table with two glasses filled with his father’s favourite ale. As he watched them do it, he turned to Lonnel, his long time friend from Wintertown and asked him.  “Has there been any word as to where Brandon is Lonnel? Has he come?”

His friend is silent a moment before he replies. “There has been no sighting of him Your Grace. The snows very well might have delayed him, and you know what Lords Dustin and Ryswell are like. More than likely they are yammering in his ear.”

Donnor laughed then as winced as pain overtook him. “Aye, that I do. I only hope Brandon does not resort to have to have them sent off before he finally claims Winterfell. After all he was the best of us, those of us that remained after Willam and Artos died.” Lonnel was about to protest but Donnor cut him off by saying. “No it is true Lonnel. I fought because I thought the north should be independent and I gave everything I had to that cause, and it brought nothing but ruin to the north in the end. I can see that now. Errold, was always a fool and he died as one. But Brandon, Brandon fought because he had to, because he knew that if he didn’t either Errold would win and he would die, or I would win and he would be sent north, or to do the one thing he never wished to do and hurt the one woman he has ever loved. I can admire him for that, still it would be nice if he was here now.”

“Aye Your Grace. And there was a raven from Mountainside, from Lord Rodwell this morning. He and your wife and children arrived at the castle safe and sound are doing their best to protect themselves from any future attacks from men loyal to your brother.” Lonnel replied.

Donnor nodded. “That is good, when I am gone write to Lyanna and tell her I love her and that I tried. Tell her that Brandon will write to her, asking for Serena’s hand for his boy Arthur. Tell her she should accept the offer. It will bring a lasting peace to the north and help win the mountain clans over to my brother. If nothing else I want to leave my brother some form of peace and dignity.”

Lonnel nodded and then asked. “If I might be so bold Your Grace, why did you chose this particular ale for you and your brother to drink? Does it have some sort of significant meaning to the two of you? Or did you merely want your last taste of beer to be something sweet?”

Donnor chuckled slightly then and winced once more from the pain. He said simply. “When we were boys, I snuck into my lord father’s chambers and took this ale from his table. I had already had my first taste of ale with Willam and Artos many years before this, but Brandon and Rodrik had been hounding me for their own taste of ale, and I knew what a good beverage this particular one was. And so knowing what father was like, I snuck in and took it, and the three of us drank the bottle between us in the godswood and got slightly drunk and we laughed and played. I wanted Brandon to remember those times, for they were better times.”

“And I am sure he will Your Grace.” Lonnel said.

Donnor  grimaced. “I doubt it, he’s late, as he always bloody was.” And as he trailed off, Donnor Stark closed his eyes, never to open them again. Donnor Stark, Lord of Winterfell and third born son of Beron and Lorra Stark died on the fourth day of the ninth month of the 231st Year after Aegon’s Landing, he was thirty three. His brother Brandon found him slumped on the winter throne.

* * *

 

**2 nd Month of 232 A.L. White Harbour**

**Lord Brandon Stark**

It had been four months since the war of the wolves as it was being called had ended, four months since his brother Donnor had died in Winterfell, and Brandon had entered the great hall to see his brother slumped there with two cups of their father’s favourite ale on a table in front of them. Seeing the cups had brought back many a pleasant memory for Brandon, the times he and his brothers had gotten drunk and had chatted like there was no tomorrow, they were good memories, from a better time and he was surprised that Donnor remembered them, his brother had always seemed very disapproving of such behaviour apart from the first time he had gotten the ale for him and Rodrik. Such an act had also brought about more awe and intimidation for Brandon, for it showed that his brother even though he might have been in great pain and agony in his last few hours, had allowed himself no respite from his duties as a lord and king and as such had done all he could to ensure that his people were safe and that Winterfell was left in running order. And the fact that, his last actual act had been to wait for Brandon, only reinforced the view in Brandon’s mind at least that in his last few moments his brother had shown that he truly cared, and that despite the fighting between them they were truly beloved brothers and as such Brandon dreaded ever having to go through such a thing again, and it pained him to think that they could not work something out.

Of course since that day, he had been hard at work, making sure that the north was repaired and became whole once more. To those lords who had supported Donnor, Karstark, Umber, Bolton, Hornwood, Glover, Mormont and the Skagosi clans he pardoned and welcomed back into the fold taking some of their children as wards. As for those lords who had fought alongside him from the very beginning he rewarded them with land and castles and some leniency in the way of taxes. But the mountain clans had proven to be his toughest opponent since the end of the war, when news had reached him that Lyanna had given birth to a baby boy, Brandon had feared that the mountain clans meant to keep the fighting going in his name. They had not done so, but neither had they come to Winterfell to pledge allegiance to him, nor had they made any overtures to suggest peace might be achieved through other means. And as such it was beginning to grate on his nerves, and so he had suggested that a betrothal be arranged between his firstborn son and heir Arthur who was now four, and Donnor’s eldest daughter Serena who was soon to be five, as of yet there had been no response.

That was not the only thing that was bothering him though, once the fighting had been done, the Valelords had returned to the Vale but with promises to return should they feel that the memory of their beloved Artos Stark was not being done justice. Brandon Blacksnow had left with them, though Brandon wondered why that man had gone to the Vale when he could have been used in the north, and he suspected it had something to do with Lorra, but he said nothing. At present he had come to White Harbour, to meet with and speak with representatives from the Golden Company, to further discuss their alliance. They were sat in the Wolf’s Den as to be away from prying eyes and ears. The man standing before him was hooded and his face was hidden by shadow, his voice had a musical quality to it. “Before I lower my hood and we begin discussions my lord stark, I need to give you some news. There has been fighting in the south, Peake, Costayne and other Reacher lords have spent the past year defying the Iron Throne and the throne has since replied. The red apple Fossoways have been exterminated but the rest of the Reach holds its breath waiting for Highgarden to respond. As of yet the flowers have done nothing and it remains to be seen if Starpike will fall.”

Brandon looks at the man and asks him. “Why do you tell me this? I already know all about what is happening in the south, and how King Maekar is expending his strength there.”

The man said simply. “Our king might require proof of your loyalty and that you mean to hold true to the vows and promises you swore to our emissary before he fully trusts you or can give you the aid you need after the civil war.”

Brandon begins to bristle but calms himself down and says. “And how many men would the King expect me to send southwards to die, when we have very few left?”

“No more than fifty my lord. After all the King understands that the north is weak at the moment, he only needs this paltry force to be sent out so that the whole realm knows that House Stark now supports the black dragon, the only true dragon there is.” The man replied.

Brandon’s eyes narrow then and he says. “Very well then. If I do this for the King what will I get out of it once the King takes the Iron Throne?”

The hooded figure is silent once more, and then says. “A royal marriage, between the king and one of your sisters or perhaps between the king’s first son and your daughter Sansa. Either way you shall get a royal marriage out of this deal. Of that I can assure you.”

Lord Manderly spoke then his voice soft and warning. “How do we know that this offer will remain true once all is said and done? After all the king has grown up around sellswords, and we all know that a sellsword’s word is worth.”

The hooded man laughed then and said. “Oh I can guarantee that this will happen.” And he removed his hood to reveal a head of silver hair and violet eyes. “For I am the king you have sworn yourself to. I am Baelon Blackfyre, and my word is the law.”


	13. Wherever I May Roam

**Seventh Month of 232 A.L. Starpike**

**King Maekar I Targaryen**

War was something Maekar had come to despise, it seemed never ending and it sucked away all the joy from life. Watching the darkest elements of the human conscious come to life before your very eyes time and time again was enough to make anyone grow weary. The fact that it seemed that warring and smashing someone’s head in with his mace appeared to be the only thing he was relatively good at completely sucked the joy away from anything in his life. This damnable war with the Peakes and their allies had dragged on for nearly a year now, what had started off with minor disobedience on the part of the Peakes, had turned into a full blown war. Mainly because Maekar was tired of letting the Peakes get away with something that should have seen them ended when Daemon’s corpse was still fresh in the ground, on that count he shared a similar opinion with Bloodraven. There had been fighting at first, between Maekar’s forces from the Crownlands and those forces belonging to the Costaynes and the Appleton’s, the Appletons were all dead now though Maekar had ensured that, the Costaynes had retreated to Starpike and the Rowans had come marching alongside men led by Ser Malcolm Tyrell and as such there had been chaos.

The last four months though had been a siege, the Peakes and their allies were all inside Starpike and as such Maekar had had his men cut down any attempts at them asking for outside help. Their food and supplies had been taken from their lands and used to feed Maekar’s own men. Of course now he sensed that perhaps the Peakes might be crumbling under pressure, either that or the Tyrells were finally about to betray him. He looked around the command tent and saw battered and weary faces, winter had been harsh to them all. He spoke then his voice sounding tired to his own ears. “Well my lords, what news has there been? Will Otto Tyrell finally bestir himself from his gods damned castle and fight with or against us?”

Aegon spoke then. “Our scouts report that Lord Otto has indeed finally made up his mind, and was seen marching from Highgarden with some 8,000 men amongst them Tarly and Redwyne and Florent, with a black dragon banner flapping alongside the roses. It would appear we are now surrounding here.”

“Even the Florents have sided with the black dragon?” Lord Beesbury bemoaned. “Then we know that we are truly done for. We cannot hope to beat that force now. The Reacherlords will soon all flock to Tyrell’s banners and we shall be left stranded here. I say we retreat back to King’s Landing Your Grace and plan our next move.”

Maekar’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Beesbury with ill conceived loathing. “Retreat? No we shall not retreat. If we were to do such a thing, then we would be sending a clear message to Peake and his allies. That we believe them too strong for us to beat them. That is not the case, Florent is nothing if not ambitious likely he will rally his own lords and allies to betray Tyrell. We remain and we break the Peakes and their allies on the battlefield.”

There was some cheering at that but then Lord Alyn Stokeworth spoke up and asked. “And what if the Tyrells should come upon us whilst the Peakes and their allies remained shut up in their castle? What if the Florents and their allies do nothing but sit there and remain the foxes they have always been?”

Maekar felt his neck beginning to pain and he wished more than anything that Naerys was there to soothe it, but she was dead now, four months dead whilst he had been waging war. He sighed. “Then we shall stand true and fight them, I will not budge from this matter my lords. I would rather die a mace in my hand than flee a coward with my tail between my legs. I am a dragon not some whipped cur.”

His lords cheered at his words, and then Aegon asked. “Very well then Your Grace. Who has the command of the forces then?”

Maekar was silent a moment and then said. “Lord Stokeworth, you shall command the left. Aegon the centre. Lord Rosby the right and I shall command the Van.” There is some mumbling at that and then Maekar says. “Now if we are done here, I wish to have a word with my son before we march out.”

Once the other lords have filed out, Maekar looks at his son and says. “Whatever you think you want to say, do not say it. I have made my choice, if I am to die I would rather die now doing what I am good at than wither away waiting for the Blackfyres to come knocking at King’s Landing.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about that father. I merely wanted to ask, if you had had word back from Lord Celtigar yet?” his son replied.

Maekar sighed. “Nothing as of yet, though from my tent this morning it did seem as if the Peakes were beginning to lumber out of their stupor”

His son nods and then gets up and leaves, leaving Maekar to his thoughts and the darkness that plagues them. Later on as the sun is at its highest, he is mounted and armoured, Ser Roland Crakehall and Ser Ryman Darry of the Kingsguard by his side, waiting for the sounds of horns or any sign of movement from Starpike. Eventually his patience runs out and he turns to Ser Roland and tells him. “Sound the damn horn, and let us get this over with.” The man does just that, and he watches as Aegon and the centre charge with battering rams smashing into the castle. They must break down the castle gates, for soon enough they are gone and other men are pouring out. Maekar spurs his horse and leads the charge of the Van.

He swings his mace left, right and centre, and brings down many a man, his mace soon getting covered in blood and dirt, and he pushes on. Men fall like flies as he swats them away, on he pushes swinging and swinging, he takes a few blows of his own, and feels winded after each of them, and yet still he pushes on towards the castle itself. When he gets near to the walls, he swings and swings and then suddenly, he feels a crushing weight fall on him and blackness. Maekar Targaryen, felled by a boulder hurled from the top of Starpike. He had died in battle, but chaos would follow his death.

* * *

 

**Ninth Month of 232 A.L. Wolf’s Den**

**Ser Aegor Rivers**

The north was not as barren and as frozen as he had been led to believe growing up. In fact it was rather more pleasant than all that. The people were hard and often could be cold, but that was just how they needed to be especially after a long hard winter and a long civil war. Aegor appreciated that, and he also appreciated that they could still be friendly and kind towards him and his men despite all that had happened to them. He also respected how much they respected and admired Lord Brandon Stark, the man was a good lord, smart and pragmatic, he put the needs of his people before his own needs, and he seemed dedicated to making sure the north was healed before war was once again called. And that was something Aegor could respect. However, being in the north only made him yearn for Stone Hedge and King’s Landing all the more, now that he was so close all he wanted to do was go home, and yet there was more that needed to be done, more planning and plotting.

The north had made its support for the Blackfyre cause official, Lord Brandon and his lords had come to the Wolf’s Den and bent the knee officially and properly to Aegor’s great nephew Baelon, and the boy had accepted them with the same easy grace and charm that his grandfather Daemon would have. The boy was smart and cunning and he knew how to wield a sword, though he seemed to prefer a hammer. Still it made no matter, he knew what was expected of him and as such often listened to council and then interpreted in his own way. Aegor knew the boy would make a good, perhaps even a great king and he looked forward to seeing him on the throne.

Of course, now though Lord Brandon and Ser Adam Woolfield, as well as Lord Hothar Dustin had come to the Wolf’s Den to meet with Aegor and the King to discuss various matters. Lord Brandon spoke first. “I will skip the pleasantries Your Grace, and get straight down to business. I have spoken with various lords under my control and we feel that though the north could do with another five years of peace, should you march southwards now, we would join you with perhaps 12,000 men.”

“That is better than we had thought my lord.” Aegor said. “Which lords would march with you?”

Lord Brandon was silent for a moment and then said. “Apart from myself, Ser Adam and the men from White Harbour, Lords Dustin, Ryswell and their men. Hornwood and Karstark as well. I will leave Lord Umber and the mountain clans here, and I shall come back and deal with them once the time comes. Apart from that I fear that I shall not be able to ask more men, as there would likely be some muttering about it all.”

Baelon spoke then. “That is good, and is all we can ask of you at this point my lord. Now there are some matters from the south that I feel we should discuss. As they shall concern you as well my lord.”

Lord Brandon looked intrigued at that, and Aegor took up the tale. “Our sources in the north have reported that the war between Maekar Targaryen and the Peakes has come to an end. King Maekar was killed by a boulder falling on top of him, and though his son managed to send the war, they suffered a lot of losses. The Peakes were spared any sort of punishment as far as we can tell, though the lad retreated to King’s Landing before the Tyrells could come in. And now our sources in the boy’s army report that a Great Council has been called to determine who the new king on the throne should be.”

“They have called a great council?” Lord Hothar Dustin exclaimed. “Are they mad? Surely by all the laws of gods and men, Prince Maegor, Maekar’s grandson is now the Targaryen King? What is the need for this great council?”

Lord Brandon spoke then. “Well we all know what Prince Aerion was like, even before his death the boy was mad, and insane enough to think that he was a dragon in human form. Prince Daeron left behind a lack witted daughter, and then there are the two sons of Maekar, Aemon and Aegon. There will be worries that Maegor will be just like his father, and with the weakening support for the Targaryens I do not think the council or their supporters truly want a child on the throne, who could be half mad. So they will take the throne now to Aemon.”

“They are already doing this,” Aegor said. “My sources report that Aemon Targaryen has been summoned from Dragonstone and has been asked to preside over the meetings. As has Bloodraven.”

At that there was a tense silence in the room, before Lord Brandon asked. “And do you intend to do about this? I suppose they have not sent ravens to you asking for your thoughts on the matter?”

Aegor laughed then. “No, no they have not. But that is something I am not too surprised about when you consider the lords of the council are crownlanders and men from the Vale, and Dorne. Lord Tully has not stirred from Riverrun to attend, and Lord Tyrell has sent a raven informing us that he will declare for us should we make our intent clear.”

Lord Brandon nodded and then asked. “And what of the Lannisters? What are those golden haired lords doing?”

Aegor was silent a moment and then said. “Lord Gerold sits and does nothing whilst Elyn Reyne calls the shots in the Rock alongside her husband Tybald or is it Tion I forget now. But I do think the Westerlands will declare for us should we march.”

“So do you intend to declare war or march for King’s Landing?” Ser Adam asks.

Baelon speaks then. “We ride for King’s Landing and we put to rights what should have happened at Redgrass all those years ago.”


	14. War Ensemble

**Third Month of 233 A.L. Stone Hedge**

**Lord Rodrik Stout**

Once more he rode into war, following his liege lord’s open declaration and calling of the banners, some 7,000 men had come to Winterfell and had marched south under the black direwolf and black dragon, of House Stark and House Blackfyre. Rodrik had felt a sense of anticipation and relief that at last they were marching to war, though he had fought in the civil war in the north, this was the war that he had been training for, for half his life. Lord Brandon had given him command of the vanguard of the northern and as such had instructed him to pillage and destroy whatever lands he could find in the Riverlands should they come across resistance. As such they had met little resistance to their crossing at the Twins and Lord Walder had not exacted a toll already fearing for his safety, and as they had marched south, they had come into contact with a small host of some 500 men mustered by Lord Monford Mallister. That battle was a short and bloody one, the Mallisters and their men fought hard and fought long, and yet at the end of the day, it was their bodies that stained the ground red, and Rodrik and his men had only suffered some eighty losses, which was not bad for their total host of 2,000 men.

Once that was done, Rodrik had his men begin lightening raiding campaigns against the riverlander towns of Hag’s Mire and Fairmarket, taking whatever supplies they could find and whatever else took their fancy. This was done to buy time for the rest of the northern host to come southward as well as to see whether Lord Lyonel Tully truly would retain his pledge of neutrality. The man had done just that, but eventually his bannermen grew impatient and desperate for action and so both Lords Vance, Lord Piper and Lord Darry had assembled a host of men and had marched towards the  Blue Fork where Rodrik had given battle to them. At one point it had seemed as if they would lose but the rest of the northern army had descended down upon the Riverlord army and had forced it to retreat. That retreat had then allowed the Golden Company to come down and arrive, and with House Bracken declaring for the black dragon once more, they had set up shop in Stone Hedge.

Of course such a thing had to be answered by the Iron Throne even when there was no king sitting on it, and as such there were rumours that a host of riverlords, Darry, Vance, Piper, Blanetree and many others were rallying behind the Red Dragon and were marching for Stone Hedge. King Baelon had called for a meeting to discuss this as well as other matters. The King was silent for most of the previous war councils but he often spoke his thoughts when he felt the need, often he simply let his hand Ser Aegor speak for him. Today was different though. “My lords,” the king began. “We have won two battles in the Riverlands thanks to Lord Rodrik and his men. However, as ever the riverlords are divided amongst themselves and Riverrun itself this time will not call them together. We have received oaths of fealty from House Bracken of course, House Charlton, Butterwell, Deddings and Goodbrook have all pledged their support to the cause. And our sending men towards Stone Hedge as we speak. The kinslayer Bloodraven though is leading men from the Stoney Sept and is planning on marching on Stone Hedge. I do not mean to let him take us here though. I mean to meet him in open battle and have done with him.”

Lord Brandon spoke then his voice neutral. “And how do you plan on doing that Your Grace? Bloodraven knows his way around a battlefield better than half the men here. And as such he will have many plans up his sleeve, some of which he will use to lure you away from the safety of your guards. Thus I do believe you should appoint your Kingsguard now and be done with it.”

There was some muttering at that, though it ended when Ser Aegor spoke up. “Aye Lord Brandon speaks truly Your Grace. We cannot risk it all by having you lured away by the kinslayer, and knowing him as I do that is what he will hope to accomplish. You must name knights to your Kingsguard and you must do it now.”

The king was silent for a moment and there Rodrik saw his uncertainty and his hesitancy, it was easy to forget that he was only sixteen and not a fully blooded man as he sometimes acted. His voice though was strong and confident when he said. “Very well then. If I must name a Kingsguard I will name those men who have so far proven themselves in battle. And that includes, Ser Leyton Woolfield the man has more skill with a sword then anyone I have ever seen. Ser Andrew Bracken you have fought beside me during our campaigns in the Disputed Lands and there is none I trust more than you, I would name you to my Kingsguard as well. I am struggling to find four other names right now. I say four because there is one man who I would trust the most to keep me safe through the turmoil of the court and war. And that is you nuncle. Ser Aegor Rivers I would name you Lord Commander of my Kingsguard.”

The ancient warrior bowed his head and accepted. And then said. “Now that we have gotten that out of the way, there is more information that must be shared with the war council before we move onto talk of when we face Bloodraven.” The man paused for a moment and then said. “The Vale, or rather those houses who are following Lord Jasper’s lead have declared for you, Your Grace. A few houses such as Corbray, Grafton, Templeton and others have remained loyal to the Targaryens. Lord Jasper has written that once he is done dealing with those houses he shall march to combine his strength with ours to march on King’s Landing.” There was some cheering at that, but it ended once Ser Aegor spoke once more. “The Westerlands though it seems are united behind the Targaryens they are also marching as we speak to deal with us. But the Ironborn are sailing to wreak havoc on them.” There was more for him to say but he remained silent and then looked to the king.

King Baelon nodded and then said. “Now as for the battle with Bloodraven, Lord Rodrik if you would be so kind as to lead the probing force into battle once more, to lure the man away from the Stoney Sept we would be grateful.” Rodrik nodded and then the king continued. “Lord Bracken you shall command the left of the host, Ser Aegor the right and I shall command the van.” The men nodded and then the king said. “We ride at first light tomorrow. Now go and rest I want you all rested.”

 

* * *

**Fifth Month of 233 A.L. Prince’s Pass**

**Ser Doran Martell**

Another civil war gripped Westeros. King Maekar’s death had seen to that, the king whilst not well liked had been a calm and stable hand gripping Westeros through the eleven years of his reign. Once he had died it had only been a matter of time before war engulfed Westeros once more. Doran had personally thought war would emerge over the Targaryen succession, but instead it had erupted when Baelon Blackfyre had emerged with the Golden Company and the north behind him and had begun fighting in the Riverlands.  All sorts of trouble had emerged then, when Mallister, Vance, Piper and Darry were beaten in two battles other lords began rebelling and had drawn away from the Great Council. There was fighting in the Vale and in the Westerlands, and King’s Landing was a ghost town.

Lord Otto Tyrell had finally declared his betrayal of the Targaryens and had lifted a black dragon atop his flag post, and had sent men to raid the border between Dorne and the Reach. Princess Arianne, the ruling Princess of Dorne had tasked him with dealing with the Reachermen and so he had. Taking 8,000 spears he had dealt a quick and harsh blow to the force commanded by Lord Jon Costayne, smashing it to pieces on the mountains and rocks of the Prince’s Pass. The second battle had actually happened in the Dornish Marches and had seen Doran join hands with Lord Caron as they fought off another attack launched by Lord Sam Tarly. That battle had been a much more difficult one and Doran had lost many good men, still he pushed on and eventually Tarly had been slain and his host defeated.

After that Doran had led his men back to the Prince’s Pass where they had been stationed for the past three months, waiting for news from either Sunspear or King’s Landing. During that time there had been a few minor skirmishes with bandits and outlaws who had emerged during this time, and even once or twice with sellswords from Essos fighting for gods alone knew who. Of course just now Doran could not think about that, for his princess’s husband Ser Alor Blackmont had arrived and had come to take stock of how things were. The man looked tired and drained but still Doran spoke up. “Since I last wrote to Sunspear, there have been some three skirmishes with men fighting for the Blackfyres, they have been men from small groups and minor houses and they have all been dealt with effectively. Yet this conflict has brought about more banditry and general lawlessness than anything else. My men grow restless and itch for actual battle. I fear what will happen if I do not give it to them.”

Ser Alor smiled then and said. “Then I believe what news I am about to give you will please your men. Arianne has just written to me from King’s Landing. It appears that the faction that was supporting Princess Elaena has decided to have her wed to Baelon Blackfyre and as such has begun making overtures to the man. They have left court and King’s Landing altogether and are making fast progress towards Stone Hedge or wherever it is that the boy is now.”

Doran gasped then and asked. “Are they being serious? Princess Elaena although a lovely girl is also somewhat slow on the uptake. And her backers are not exactly all that powerful, surely they do not believe that Blackfyre or Bittersteel will accept them?”

Ser Alor looked at him and sighed. “You do not understand, Velaryon has also declared for Blackfyre and is bringing with him the might of the Velaryon fleet as well as several of the Crackclaw Point houses. They have significant push now to achieve their goals.”

“But why would Velaryon want a black dragon on the throne?” Doran asked. “It makes no sense, he is more likely to gain something from remaining loyal to the Targaryens after all there could be a royal betrothal for it in him, if he betroths his daughter to Prince Maegor. Doing what he is doing now gives him nothing.”

His goodbrother spoke then and his tone was sad. “Aye but Daeron Velaryon feels as if his house has been steadily in decline since the Dance, and believes that the only way to arrest that is to side with the Black Dragon. His fleet is sailing towards the Trident now, and he hopes to land men there as we speak. Furthermore, there are those at court who believe making Prince Aegon king would be a good idea, as the man is grown, and has battle experience, though Prince Aegon himself constantly states he wants neither the throne, the crown nor the responsibility. He does not even wish to be his nephew Maegor’s regent.”

“And Maegor’s own grandfather has betrayed him has he not?” Doran asked. “Declaring for the Black dragon? What news has come of Bloodraven and the host he led into battle?”

Ser Alor shook his head then and said. “Aye, Lord Bracken has declared for Baelon Blackfyre and left Prince Maegor without any real support besides Maester Aemon, and even then no one is sure what game that man is playing. As for Bloodraven, there is limited information coming through. From what I have been able to gather, he led his host from the Stoney Sept a moon ago, since then there has been no word from him or anyone in his camp.”

That was bad news, bad news indeed. “And what of the battle you said my men would get Ser? Where will that be and who with?”

Alor looked grim then and he said. “Arianne wants you to head into the Reach and march for Cider Hall. Bring down the lords gathering there and that shall be your battle.”

“Cider Hall?” Doran asks. “You’re asking me to go to Cider Hall and let my men die as the Tyrells send arrows down upon them for something that could be settled in court?”

Alor looks at him then and his eyes harden. “No I am asking you to do your duty to Dorne and end this gods damned threat to our people once and for all. And the way to do that is to go to Cider Hall.”


	15. Falling

**Seventh Month of 233 A.L. King’s Landing**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

Winter bred harshness that was what his mother always used to say. But Queen Naerys had always been a kind woman, and a caring mother, and Aegon could never have imagined her as being harsh to anybody. She was the woman who had tempered King Maekar and his anger, and had made him into a great king and an even better father, at least that was what Aegon thought. But the winter had come and claimed Queen Naerys and the Peakes had claimed King Maekar, leaving Aegon to fret about the future. The death of the king without a properly announced successor had left the realm in a question over who should succeed him, there were some who wanted Maegor, Aerion’s son to succeed but when the boy’s own uncle had abandoned him for the Blackfyres those calls had ended, then there were those who wanted Elaena, Daeron’s slow witted daughter as Queen, but when she had fled and then been found dead on the road near Harrenhal those calls had ended as well. Finally, they had offered the throne to Aemon and as far as Aegon could tell his older brother had rejected the offer for the throne, and so the throne was going to be offered to Aegon, but then the Blackfyres launched an invasion of the lands south of the neck, prompting even more fighting to break out meaning the council disintegrated as the lords of the realm went back to defend their own lands. Aegon and his family were left stranded in King’s Landing, what with Daeron Velaryon having turned traitor and sailed his ships up the Blackwater and towards the Riverlands, they had relied on his second in command Ser Edmond Estermont to navigate the royal fleet and take Aegon’s wife Rhae and three youngest children Jaehaerys, Rhaelle and Aelix to Dragonstone. Duncan remained in King’s Landing by Aegon’s side ready for battle.

His wife was a fiery and passionate woman, even more so when it came to their children and she had agreed quite readily to have them go to Dragonstone, but she had wanted him to go with them as well and that was something he couldn’t do, should he flee their family’s cause would be done. Duncan was as fiery and passionate as Rhae was,  and on the battlefield that served him well as Aegon could attest to, but in court it often put him in sticky situations as the deflowering of that Baratheon girl attested to. Jaehaerys was more calm and peaceful, more reserved because of his health, Rhaelle was like a mixture of Aegon and Rhae, fiery, passionate and smart. Aelix was quite young only four years old, but he appeared to be more like Aemon than either of his parents. Either way, Aegon loved them all and worried for them.

The door to their father’s solar opened and Aemon walked in looking weary. “What news?” Aegon asked. “Has there been word from Bloodraven?”

Aemon looked at him a moment, sighed and sat down. “Bloodraven’s host was broken on the sight of where Redgrass took place. He, Blackwood and those lords who had fought for us were either captured or slaughtered. The Blackfyres now march on King’s Landing with the strength of the north, and what strength remains in the Riverlands, for Lord Lyonel Tully has declared for them now.”

“So the trout has ditched whatever loyalty it ever had to us. I always thought they were to ambitious by half. What news of Dorne, what has Arianne been doing?” Aegon asked.

“Dealing with the lords from Dorne who believe that they should declare for the Black Dragon, Yronwood is dead and so the support has died with him. Ser Doran Martell and the host sent north to the Reach has been beaten and smashed. Ser Alor Blackmont now leads the defences of the Prince’s Pass, and Arianne assures me that she shall not let the Black Dragon get through. As for the Vale, the Corbrays and their allies have been beaten and Lord Jasper Arryn is marching alongside his men to join Baelon Blackfyre on a march to the capital.” Aemon replied.

Aegon sighed then feeling that their whole dynasty was coming crashing down. “And what of the Westerlands. Please tell me the Lannisters have finally dealt a blow to the Reynes, and Crakehalls whoever else has sided with them.”

Aemon shakes his head then and says. “Lord Gerold is ailing and his gooddaughter Elyn Reyne has Tion Lannister wrapped around her Littlefinger. The Lannisters are doing nothing, and as such the Reynes hold sway over much of the Westerlands now. There is too much going wrong for us, and not enough going right.”

Aegon puts his head in his hands and then looks up. “Do you think there is any point in trying to rally the Stormlands to our cause and ride out and fight?”

“No,” Aemon says decisively. “Robar has enough problems as it is. His wife is ailing and all other sorts of things are going wrong for him and the Baratheons. We cannot get them involved now. No it would be better if you and Duncan fled to Dragonstone and waited out the storm.”

“Not you?” Aegon asks. “What would you do? Stay in King’s Landing and have your head removed by that scum simply because of what your name is?”

Aemon shakes his head and says. “I am a maester of the citadel, my name means nothing now. I can try and offer the man council if he will heed it. See that Dragonstone remains ours, and try and build from there. The boy has no experience of ruling and will make mistakes, and Bittersteel was always too stubborn according to father to see reason from any other perspective but his own. He will make mistakes and the lords will want you back.”

Aegon is about to protest when Aemon raises a hand and says. “Do not argue Egg. I am still your older brother. Do as I say, go with Duncan and leave for Dragonstone tonight. I shall do all I can to save our family.”

Aegon sighs and nods. Later that night, he, Duncan and Dunk all board a ship bound for Dragonstone, leaving behind Aemon and two knights of the Kingsguard, and Aegon swears he will return.

* * *

**Ninth Month of 233 A.L.**

**King Baelon I Blackfyre**

Finally, after a long hard fought battle against Bloodraven they had emerged triumphant. At the place where Baelon’s ancestor had been killed by the same man, Baelon had been the one to kill him this time. A sword through the chest, and Baelon had laughed with malicious glee when that had happened. The man’s host had not broken, Lord Blackwood had rallied men and brought them charging against the wall that Lord Brandon Stark had command of. Stark held the wall and broke Blackwood and his men, ending the battle and destroying the last hope the Targaryens had. With that done, and the Westerlands now firmly behind him, Lyonel Tully had added what little strength remained in his kingdom to Baelon’s, the Vale was also now part of their support. Dorne held out, the Reach engaged in combat with them, the Stormlands remained silent, and the Ironborn were tame again.

King’s Landing had fallen easily enough; the lords of the crownlands fearing for their own skins had all but thrown open the gates to the city to him and his army. Then they had laid their swords at his feet as he mounted the Iron Throne, and the lords of the realm who had pledged their swords to him, bowed before him and gave him their allegiance. Only then had they given him the Targaryen Maester. Maester Aemon Targaryen, grandson of the Falseborn was a smart man and a good man that much Baelon knew and he was smart enough to realise that the man was likely going to try and encourage him to give his family on Dragonstone mercy. Baelon would not fall for such things, for he had decided soon after meeting the man that he was too smart to keep around and so had sent him north to take the black.

That done he had proceed to name a small council, Ser Aegor his uncle and teacher he had named hand of the king and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard before their campaign had begun. Master of laws he gave to Lord Lyonel Tully, master of coin was a position he gave to Edmond Reyne, master of ships was Daeron Velaryon and master of whispers he gave to Lord Jasper Arryn. The Citadel was to send a new maester soon enough. Baelon had been anointed and crowned by the High Septon in the Sept of Baelor, crowned with the crown of the conqueror, and proclaimed saviour of the kingdoms. And now once that was done, he had many other tasks to focus on such as rebuilding the kingdom, but first he needed to finish off the Targaryens. “So Long as they remain alive, they are a threat to my throne. Aemon Targaryen will take the black the minute he reaches the north. But there is one Targaryen who remains in King’s Landing. The boy, Maegor Targaryen, who could prove a threat should he be allowed to grow.” Baelon said.

“What do you propose then Your Grace?” Lord Jasper asked. “Do you propose that we have the boy killed? Doing such a thing will not endear you to the lords or smallfolk, the boy is but a babe and as such cannot be held accountable for the wrongs of his parents.”

“Just as the Targaryens did not hold me or my father accountable for whatever perceived wrongs my grandfather and uncle did to them? No I think not. So long as that boy remains alive, he remains a rallying point for those Targaryen loyalists who are hiding now. And if he reproduces then my children and their children shall face threats.” Baelon replied.

“There is another solution to this problem rather than just having the boy killed.” Edmond Reyne said. “You could have the boy’s reproductive organs removed and thus annul any chance that he sires any children be they trueborn or bastards.”

“You mean make him an eunuch? We are not from the free cities, and surely doing such a thing would only make things worse for his grace?” Lord Daeron asked.

Baelon was silent a moment and then turned to his hand. “Ser Aegor, what say you?”

The man who Baelon considered more of a father than his own had been was slow to reply but eventually said. “Whilst the option does not appear all that savoury it could spare us a whole lot of bother. I say do it, the child is what two, three years old. Give him some dreamwine and have it done then and keep him on as a ward, so that we can keep an eye on him and know he will be siring no children and make sure none give him any ideas.”

Baelon nodded and then said. “Very well then whilst we wait for the citadel to send us a new grand maester, Maester Lewyn shall do this job. Now how shall we deal with the Targaryens on Dragonstone?”

“You must wed Rhaelle Targaryen to ensure the Targaryen loyalists are kept happy. And you must kill the rest.” Aegor said. “That is the only way you can ensure that peace lasts in the realm.”

Baelon nods and so the plans for taking Dragonstone are made, and soon enough perhaps a week later they are sailing for Dragonstone. They engage in some combat with soldiers on the ships of the royal fleet, but all in all it is an easy battle and victory almost too easy. Once they land, the garrison there puts up more of a fight, Baelon gets to swing his sword and kill a fair few men, whetting his sword and painting the ground red. Baelon and his men push through the garrison killing them as they go, and eventually they come to the rooms where their sources say that Prince Aegon and his family live, and they find them deserted, except for one girl, with fair hair and eyes like his own. They stare at him and he wonders how they ever forgot to take her, and then he sees the dead bodies of her guards and realises that his own spies within the castle likely did the work for him. Rhaelle Targaryen is his now.


	16. Aftermath

**Eleventh Month of 233 A.L. Winterfell**

**Lady Jeyne Stark**

Winterfell was a big and imposing castle, much bigger than the castle that Jeyne had lived in with her husband before the civil war and before Brandon had become Lord of Winterfell. There were times when Jeyne was not sure if she preferred Winterfell or Barrowmount the castle where she and her husband had lived before the war, both had their good points and bad points, all in all though Jeyne did think she preferred Winterfell, there was a certain feeling of safety she got from the old castle that she had not gotten from Barrowmount. Winterfell was also a good place to raise their children, Jeyne thought, the people of Winterfell were much more enthused towards her and her husband and their children than they had been towards Donnor Stark and his family according to nan, the nursemaid who had been brought in when Willam Stark was still lord.  Her and Brandon’s children were growing bigger by the day, Arthur their eldest had just turned five and was a curious child always running around and playing with things, whilst Sansa their eldest daughter was a very sweet two year old, and then there was Benjen who had just turned one, he was a quiet child. Jeyne loved them all something fierce and hoped to see them protected from war for some time to come.

Of course it did seem that the conflicts within the Stark family were now also finally sorting themselves out, Rodrik Stark, Brandon’s younger brother had finally returned north from his exile in Stone Hedge bringing with him, Willam’s two children Edwyle and Branda, but not their mother Melantha, who it seemed had died during the taking of Raventree Hall. Rodrik had been pardoned by King Baelon, but had not come north following the end of the war, that he had come north now was a sign that perhaps he wished to patch things up with Brandon. Something Jeyne’s husband had been all too happy to do, after all she knew her husband missed his brothers and was haunted by Donnor’s ghost. As for Edwyle and Branda, the boy had been told he would join the Night’s Watch when he turned sixteen, and Branda was to join the Order of the Green Men soon enough. The threats to their children were dealt with and so Jeyne wondered what it was her husband wished to speak with her about.

She found Maester Lomys and Rodrik in her husband’s solar when she entered, her husband seemed rather tired and sad when she sat beside him, taking his hand under the table. “You asked for me my lord?” she asked.

Brandon sighed and said. “I did indeed my lady. There has been a raven from Last Hearth. It would appear that the wildlings have been growing bolder once again. The Night’s Watch is growing weaker by the year, and do not have the strength to deal with all the wildlings who make it over the wall. Hoarfrost wants to know what I plan on doing about it.”

Rodrik spoke then. “There is only one thing that can be done brother. You must send out a party to find and deal with these wildlings and end their threat before it becomes apparent that they can be one.”

Jeyne spoke up then. “But surely it is Hoarfrost’s job as Lord of Last Hearth to see to the wildlings that make it into his lands? After all why is he asking you to do something, when it is clear what his own job should be?”

Maester Lomys voiced his agreement. “Lady Jeyne has a very valid point my lord. Why should you have to deal with the wildlings when they are still on Lord Umber’s territory? Should they move past his territory, then perhaps sending out men to fight the wildlings would make sense. Otherwise there is no sense in doing so.”

Her husband sighed and said. “Aye, that is true. But with Edwyle still in Winterfell and not moving from here until he is of age, there is a risk that Hoarfrost might very well declare for him and try riding out a war. I need that man to feel he needs us, more than we need him, and so we must ride out and deal with these wildlings.”

Jeyne spoke up again then. “Well if that is the case do not go yourself.” Her husband was about to protest and so she ploughed on. “If you lead this party there is every chance that Hoarfrost could arrange an accident for you, or that the mountain clans could come forth and act for Donnor Stark. Send someone else, someone they will respect but will fear enough that they won’t try and make a move on them.”

Brandon was silent for a long moment and then said. “Rodrik you shall go. Head north, take 100 men with you and deal with these wildlings. And on your way back, stop off with the first flints and speak with Lady Arya. It is time you were wed.”

Jeyne had to suppress a chuckle as her goodbrother began spluttering. “But, why now? Why so soon after one war and another? Why not give it sometime before relations between Winterfell and the mountain clans are more improved?”

Jeyne saw her husband’s eyebrows go up. “Why are you so hesitant to be wed brother? I saw you making moon eyes at Lady Arya when she was here two weeks ago for my son’s nameday feast. Surely you would not object to wedding such a beauty? And besides, what better way to soothe things over with the mountain clans than by wedding one of their own to a son of Winterfell?” Her husband looked at Rodrik and then said. “Unless there is someone else?”

Her goodbrother blushed then and said solemnly. “No my lord there is no one else. I shall do as you asked.”

Her husband nodded and said. “Good.”

* * *

 

**2 nd Month of 234 A.L. King’s Landing**

**Queen Rhaelle Blackfyre**

There would be times at night where she would wake up sweating, with her heart racing thinking she was still on Dragonstone, waiting for her father to come to her room and tell her it was time to go. Life on Dragonstone had made her feel like a fugitive, constantly worrying over whether or not the black dragon and his men would come knocking, her mother and brother Jaehaerys had been on high alert until father and Duncan had come from King’s Landing. And then Father and mother had spent most of their time preparing for the inevitable, Rhaelle herself was left to look after Aelix who was only a babe and did not truly understand what was going on, Jaehaerys and Duncan spoke about various other things, and that had been the way of their life for some four months. And then, one night the night they had all dreaded had finally come, they were to leave Dragonstone for Pentos, and yet Rhaelle had been dragged from the corridor by men who bore the black dragon, spies working for him and her guards had been killed. Her family had left not knowing where she was, and Rhaelle had been heartbroken and had despaired. And then anger had engulfed her as she saw the black dragon and his men loot Dragonstone, and she swore she would have vengeance.

Her wedding had been a hastily arranged affair, not something she had thought would happen during all those long nights she had dreamed of such a thing happening. All the traitors were there to see her wed to the usurper. The wedding passed by in a blur, the feast afterwards much the same, her husband spoke barely two words to her, and Rhaelle contented herself to looking after her cousin baby Maegor. But then the bedding was called for and she was brought to their chambers, her husband was clearly no virgin, and yet he did not take her like an animal, instead he was careful and gentle with her and then once they were done he left. It had been the same for some five months now, always they would do the deed and then he would leave. Some part of her was glad for that, and some other part of her wanted him to stay so she could learn more of him.

They very rarely spoke and so, she was quite surprised when he entered her solar and began speaking to her of affairs of the realm. “My lady, I hope I am not disturbing you.” Rhaelle shook her head and her husband continued. “It is just that I was hoping I could ask your opinion on something?”

“You are my husband Your Grace. You do not need to ask me for anything.” Rhaelle said noncommittally.

Her husband was silent for a long moment, and then he asked. “What do you know of the Martells and the Baratheons my lady? By that I mean, what do you know of how they think and act?”

The question took her back for a moment and then she replied. “Well I know that Lord Robar Baratheon has always been someone who was quick to anger and quick to act on that anger. The man does not always think,  but he will always do what he thinks is best. As for the Martells, well Princess Arianne is strong minded and stubborn and as such she will always follow her gut. Why are they not submitting to you?” She secretly hoped so.

Her husband did not answer her question directly. “And how do you think they would be best placated and brought back down to see sense?”

Rhaelle was silent for a moment, realising that she could probably weaken her husband’s position even more, but for some reason she felt the need to be somewhat truthful with him. “Well have you actually asked them what they want? Or have you kept putting pressure on them? For I know that Lord Robar, will do nothing but continue to resist you if you keep doing that. As for Arianne, I know not what can make her bend.”

Her husband silently contemplated what she had said for a long moment and then he laughed and said. “How do I know what you are telling me is the truth? After all you could be doing this to simply weaken my position and make it easier for your father to return and claim what your family took from mine many years ago.”

Rhaelle was silent and then she said. “You asked for my opinion Your Grace, and I gave it to you. Whether or not you choose to listen to what I have said is up to you. I am merely doing my duty as your wife.”

Her husband laughed again. “Aye, that much you are. Dutiful aye, my wife is very dutiful. So tell me wife of mine, if you were me what would you do?”

Rhaelle thought about her husband’s question for a moment and then said. “If I were you, Your Grace. I would call back Lord Tyrell and tell him to end his hostilities with the Martells, and I would tell him to put men on the border with the Stormlands. Make Lord Robar wonder what you will be doing next, and he might just slow down enough to consider bending the knee to you properly.”

Her husband considered her a moment and then smiled. “I knew you were smart my lady, but I never thought you were that smart. But saying that, what are the chances of Martell and Baratheon allying together?”

Rhaelle was stunned by the question, it was obvious her husband knew not of the rivalry or intense hatred as her father liked to call it between Baratheon and Martell. Whether or not she should say that though was another thing entirely, and as the minute began ticking by her husband looked at her intently. Eventually she swallowed and spoke. “You must give them an incentive not to.” At that her husband smiled and Rhaelle prayed she had not just ruined her father’s chances of reclaiming the throne.


	17. Loose Ends

**Eighth Month of 234 A.L. Castle Flint**

**Rodrik Stark**

Winter was finally leaving, the ravens had arrived signalling the beginning of spring and with them, Rodrik sensed that perhaps a new sense of hope and peace could be reached. Winter had brought a lot of change to the north, the war had shown just how fractured a people they had become, and Brandon was doing all he could to reunite them. Despite all of this though Winterfell itself had remained the same, it was slightly quieter without his other brothers and their families being there, and it was also much more defensible, something Donnor would have undoubtedly seen to, given what Rodrik knew of his brother’s hatred of just how indefensible their ancestors had let the castle become. All in all the north might have seen a great deal of change, but Winterfell itself remained much the same.

That was good, for Rodrik had ridden out with some 100 men from Winterfell joining up with some 200 men from Last Hearth under Hoarfrost’s command and together they had tracked the wildlings some 90 of them to a village just bordering on the gift. The fighting had been fierce and Rodrik had cut down many a men and had sustained a fair few wounds himself, but eventually the wildlings were sent packing, either killed or fled. One that they captured spoke of how the wildlings were trying to regroup under the Red Raven, the craven who had fled Red Lake and were planning for another invasion at a future date. Rodrik had sent word back to Brandon and had sent word to the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch to be prepared and then he had ridden for the mountains, to meet with the clan chiefs and with his future bride to be.

He had spent a night with each of the different mountain clans as he travelled towards Flint Castle, and whilst there he had observed just how fiercely loyal the mountain chiefs were to the memory of his older brother Donnor, and just how protective and loyal they were to Donnor the younger. The fact that they had sworn their allegiance to Donnor the younger and recognised him as Lord of the Northern Mountains meant that the boy was now one of the most powerful lords of the north and the most powerful lord in the far north, perhaps as powerful if not more powerful than House Bolton. Such a thought reminded Rodrik just how influential and respected Donnor had been, for all that he was cold and merciless.

Of course when he had arrived at castle Flint he had found Lord Torreg Flint to be surprisingly receptive to his arrival. The man seemed to have disassociated himself with the rest of the mountain chiefs and was looking for protection, Rodrik was quick to see. His daughter though, was sharp and cunning and Rodrik found himself already hugely charmed by her. She was a good rider, and good conversation and as she was proving on their ride she could more than match him with her understanding of politics. “Your brother believes that by having you wed me, the rest of the mountain clans will be placated. He believes that having his heir wed Serena Stark has not done the trick just yet. Does he fear that my father and the other chiefs will declare for Donnor?”

Rodrik hesitates a moment, wanting to stick up for Brandon but then he merely says. “Brandon believes that certain things must be done to ensure that the north is safe and secure, and that such a war as happened before never happens again. The war changed the north, and whether it is for the good or bad, none of us are quite sure yet.”

Arya turns to him and says. “A war that your brothers started when they refused to accept Edwyle Stark as the rightful lord of Winterfell. After all I suppose they thought a woman could not do the ruling for the lad until he matured?”

Rodrik swallows then and says. “It was not because Melantha was a woman my lady. I spent some time with her whilst we were fleeing south, and I know she would have been more than capable as a regent.” He pauses then wondering how much he should actually tell her, and then he just decides to tell her the truth. “It was more the fact that Donnor believed that with Melantha in charge, the north would become more southern, and he felt that was a complete blasphemy for what the north stood for. Errold wanted to maintain the southern ties and he feared that he would be put to death should Donnor win.”

“And what of our current Lord of Winterfell, why did he fight?” Arya asked.

Rodrik sighed and said. “Because he felt it was right for him to do so.”

Arya snorts then and then she looks at him and asks. “Why did you not fight then my lord?”

Rodrik sighs then and says. “Because I would not besmirch my father’s memory, by killing my own brothers. Now is there aught else you wish to ask of me, that is of a more cheerful nature?”

“Yes, actually there is.” Arya says. “When we are wed, for I know that we will be whether I will it or not. Where would you prefer to stay? Here, Winterfell or in the keep where you lived before the war?”

He had not thought about that, honestly he had not, he had thought they would deal with that after the wedding but for now he simply says. “I am most needed in Winterfell, and so we shall go to Winterfell and live there. Though that might change as the years go by. As of right now though, Winterfell is where I am most needed.”

Arya nods and then she says simply. “Well at least you are decisive. I think we could get along very well Lord Rodrik, very well indeed.”

A few days later in the godswood of Castle Flint they are wed, with the mountain clans in attendance and Brandon and his wife Jeyne and their children, and soon enough Rodrik is a married man, his days of wandering over and done.

* * *

 

**5 th Month of 235 A.L. Pentos**

**Jaehaerys Targaryen**

Pentos is hot and swelteringly so, even more than King’s Landing was, and Jaehaerys health has taken a deep hit from it. He sweats and shivers in equal measure, and his parents are wracked with worry, over whether or not he will survive and how they will get Rhaelle back from the usurper. Jaehaerys himself, feels like he is dying half of the time, and that is the worst part of it all, the fact that he cannot even do anything to aid his parents, not like Duncan, he can’t go out on patrol or gather news from the streets. And he certainly can’ t train with weapons to protect himself. All in all he hates living in Pentos, and dreams foolish dreams of being the one to end Baelon Blackfyre, Rhaelle was his responsibility and he should have made sure she made it onto the ship before he too left for the ship. Damn it, these thoughts haunt his waking hours and drive him mad.

When news had come of Rhaelle having given the usurper a child whom they had named Viserys, Jaehaerys had felt the guilt consume anew, and his father had been livid. The thought of that man atop his sister, raping her and doing all kinds of horrible things to ensure the continuation of his gods damned dynasty, angered Jaehaerys and the rest of their family beyond compare, and Jaehaerys once again begged for forgiveness. Forgiveness for not being stronger physically, and for not being able to protect Rhaelle as was his duty as her brother. For letting those damned guards pass without a question, it ate away at him and would drive him mad.

His mother was drifting away, and only little Aelix was holding her together, to life. Father and Duncan though sat and planned on how they would get back what was rightfully theirs. Jaehaerys was rarely included in this meetings and yet today his father had told him that he would be. “There has been word from Dorne. Princess Arianne has broken away from the throne and has declared Dorne’s independence.” Jaehaerys heard his father say. “She writes that until a red dragon sits the iron throne, Dorne shall remain independent and free from the tyranny of the usurpers. Of course Baelon Blackfyre now seems to be planning for a campaign against Dorne that will drag on and drains his resources.”

Duncan laughed. “Has he not learnt from the Young Dragon’s attempt to bring Dorne into the realm? He shall fail in that and lose support. Truly do these usurpers learn nothing from their hero’s failure?”

Their father shook his head. “Apparently not. But can you truly blame him, when Bittersteel whispers in his ear about this and that, and Daena Targaryen remains so strongly imposed on the Blackfyres, that they will likely think with their cocks and not their brains. Furthermore, Lord Robar assures me that though he might have dipped his banners, he is working as fast and as hard as he can in ensuring that the Black Dragon loses support.”

“How does he plan on doing that though? He is surrounded by enemies to the north and south. And if our reports were correct, Lord Tyrell will soon be securing the future of Lord of the Storm’s End is actually a Tyrell.” Duncan said.

Lord Rosby spoke then his voice no louder than a whisper. “Simple. He will use the wedding to plan his own things with his bannermen. It has been some time since the wars between the Durrandons and the Reacherlords, but their enmity remains intact and as such I have a friend at court who is using this to their and our advantage Your Grace.”

“How long will it take for all of this to go according to plan my lord?” Prince Aegon asked. “It has been two years since the Great Council, and in that time Blackfyre has consolidated his hold over the kingdoms, but with Dorne independent and the Stormlands still uncertain, there is a chance that we can find a hole in his hold on the throne and exploit it. But how long will it take for your source to play this to our advantage?”

 

Lord Rosby was silent for a moment and then said. “They said perhaps a month to a year. And once they are done we can take advantage of the chaos this will reap and take the throne back.”

Jaehaerys speaks then and asks. “How certain are you that this will work though my lord? After all, the Blackfyres tried things like this for many years after Redgrass and often failed to do anything with their information. How can you guarantee that something similar will not happen to us?”

Lord Rosby was silent a moment and then said. “Because my prince, unlike the pretender who now sits the throne, my source is someone with connections to all the kingdoms in Westeros, and someone who will make sure the Targaryens come back to power. For the good of the kingdom depends on it. These Blackfyres know nothing but war and fighting, and as such will never have the peace that we could have under Your Graces.”

Jaehaerys nods and then asks. “And you believe that this person, will be enough to convince our more marital lords that a return of the Targaryens will be good for them?”

Rosby nods and says. “None of the minor houses who supported the Black Dragon have been elevated in status my prince. The Lannisters, Arryns, Tyrells and Tullys still hold their domains. The Iron Islands sits in silence though and perhaps it would not be amiss to send word to them and ask for a hand in friendship.”

Jaehaerys’ father spoke then. “I am not sure whether or not that would the smartest course of action. Quellon Greyjoy is not Dagon, but he is still Ironborn, and they have more brawn than sense in their heads. The man could see this as an attempt to gain more lands and privileges for himself that could alienate potentially more valuable allies in the great houses.”

Jaehaerys spoke then. “Perhaps, but a kraken surely is better than a grape. Especially now that the grapes have shown their treacherous nature.”


	18. Walking

**Ninth Month of 235 A.L. King’s Landing**

**Ser Aegor Rivers**

For two years he had served as hand of the king, and during that time Aegor had helped his great nephew rebuild Westeros from the disunited ruin it had been following Maekar’s death into something approaching a much more stable and secure kingdom. Being hand of the king, truly was not all that different to being captain general of the golden company, after all the lords and the people of Westeros, all wanted something, and for Aegor it was a case of figuring out what they wanted and then tying that into the needs of the kingdom. The people seemed to be happy with what he and Baelon were doing for the lords who counted were still standing behind them and as such so were the smallfolk and the other lords of the realm.  As for being in the Kingsguard, that had been something that had surprised Aegor, but when he had landed in the north and learnt that Shiera, his one true love had died, he had not truly minded being in the Kingsguard, if he could not have her what was the point in having other women? The knights of the Kingsguard were as good if not better as they had been during the reign of Aegor’s own father. Aegor himself was a good swordsman all these years later, Ser Adam Woolfield was electric with a sword in his hand and was honourable to a fault, Ser Lyonel Reyne, was strong and quick as well, Ser Desmond Royce was silent and deadly, Ser Harlon Tarly was  one of the finest swordsman Aegor had ever seen, and then there were the two hostages, Ser Davos Baratheon a small man with the strength of an ox, and Ser Tion Lannister. The Kingsguard was good and would defend the king should the need arise.

And it might very well arise, small council sessions were dominated with talk of Dorne and the Stormlands and the Targaryens across the narrow sea. Today was no different. “There has been no change in what Aegon Targaryen does across the narrow sea Your Grace.” Lord Jasper Arryn said. “He sits in his manse with his family and Lord Rosby and plots and plots. He makes no move to do anything else and the magisters of Pentos grow weary of housing him.”

“So are you saying there is a chance that they might throw them out and leaving them wandering around Essos?” Baelon asks sounding eager.

Lord Jasper nods and says. “It looks like it might come to that Your Grace. Prince Aegon has done himself no favours with the magisters, he seeks Westerosi betrothals for his sons and ignores whatever overtures that the magisters or the Prince of Pentos make towards him. Soon enough he will find himself without a single friend there at all.”

Baelon laughs and claps his hands. “Excellent. Then we can send word to Strickland and ask him to prepare for an ambush for the Targaryens and perhaps we can seal their fate without needing to engage in even more battle?”

Aegor speaks then and says. “We must first come up with a reason for the Magisters to force the Targaryens out. Simply refusing betrothals is not enough reason, the Pentoshi are a prideful people yes, but keeping the Targaryens means that they will stand to benefit should the time come when the red dragon sits the throne once more. We must find something that will force them to question the wisdom of having the Targaryens in Pentos.”

“Why not hold back on trade?” Lord Viserys Plumm the son of Aegor’s aunt Elaena asks. “After all we have enough gold in the treasury and enough contacts within Essos to do without the Pentoshi imposing their tariffs on us for harbouring usurpers. Withhold trade with them and the Prince will be pressured, either die or cut the Targaryens out. And then we can strike.”

Baelon seizes on that. “Yes,” he says nodding. “That makes sense. Force trade with Pentos to stop completely, not just with us but between the other free cities as well, and the magisters shall begin pressuring the Prince to remove the Targaryens.”

Aegor was not as convinced as the other members of the council and said as such. “Whilst that plan would be genius if it would work, there is no clear indication that it would work. For whilst Tyrosh will do as I bid them, Lys, Myr, and the other free cities have no reason to listen to what we have to say. No reason at all.”

Daeron Velaryon speaks then. “The throne might not, but I have a reason to make Volantis listen to what I have to say. My wife is from Volantis, and as such her brother is the most powerful member of the triarchy. One simple word in his ear and Volantis will cut trade with Pentos instantly, as will the other free cities that follow Volantis’ lead.”

Aegor looks at the king and sees his eyes shining with anticipation, he nods subtly and the king says. “Then do it, speak with you wife my lord. And make sure that nothing can be traced back to us.” Lord Velaryon nods and then the king turns the council’s attention to the other pressing matter at hand. “Dorne’s independence is something that I find very offensive, when my ancestor set out to conquer Westeros, he wanted all of it not just six kingdoms. Dorne must fall and it must fall soon.”

Aegor speaks then. “Well enough time has passed to make the lords hungry for glory once more Your Grace. I say we begin preparing for a campaign, and send feelers out. Tyrell’s son has now wed Robar Baratheon’s daughter and so that power play can come full circle. We need the forces of the Reach focusing on Dorne now.”

The king nods and says. “Send a raven to the Arbor. Tell Lord Redwyne, it is time for him to prove just how good a fleet the Redwyne fleet is.”

* * *

 

**First month of 236 A.L. Sunspear**

**Princess Arianne Martell**

Dorne was an independent kingdom once more. Without a red dragon sitting the throne, there was no point in being associated with the rest of Westeros in such a capacity, that was what Arianne and her brother Doran and husband Alor had all agreed. And so she had declared independence and had Ser Alleras Sand hold the Boneway for her against anyone from the Reach who might think to try their hand at invasion. A free and independent Dorne, was something that both excited and frightened Arianne, because whilst she was excited about the possibilities this could bring, she was also scared that she would mess things up and her people would suffer as a result. Already the Baratheons had caved in eventually, and Lord Robar had wed his eldest daughter to Ser Willas Tyrell, making the Tyrells one of the most, if not the most powerful great houses in the realm. Of course there was talk of something more going on but that was all it was just talk.

Of course Arianne also had other things to worry about as well, Alor was ailing in health, her husband of twenty years was growing weaker and weaker and there was nothing that could be done about it. Their children, Elia and Lewyn were both growing up quickly, Elia was ten and Lewyn eight, and Elia reminded Arianne so forcefully of Alor that sometimes it hurt her to look at her daughter and heir, whilst Lewyn reminded Arianne so much of her brother Doran that often she merely smiled looking at him. Her children were growing up under much more scrutiny than Arianne ever had, for they were now complete royalty and would be expected behave as such.

Of course just now she could not really think about that. Not when she saw how grim her brother looked. “How bad is it out there brother?” Arianne asked dreading the answer. When Redwyne ships had been sighted sailing down towards the western coast she had feared the worst.

Doran took a long sip of wine and then spoke. “It is very bad  Arianne. The Redwynes are pushing hard against our reserves, and Lord Maron does not know how long he can keep throwing them back into the sea. It does not help that he cannot truly trust the Daynes of High Hermitage, for all we know they could be working alongside the Black Dragon or even the Yronwoods.”

“Do you think that they are in line to bring us down then brother?” Arianne asked.

Her brother’s brow furrowed and he said softly. “I know not Arianne. All I know is that unless we push the Redwynes out of here soon, we shall be seeing a possible civil war within our own lands.”

“You are certain that is the case?” Arianne asked. “From what I have been told the lords and people alike think that the move I made was the right one, and as such do not wish to be part of the Iron Throne’s domains again.”

“And that is precisely where the problem lies.” Alor says speaking for the first time. “They do not want to be part of Westeros again, not in the way we have been ever since grandmother was wed to grandfather, and yet they all know that should the Targaryens emerge from Pentos, or wherever it is they are now, then we shall declare for them and Dorne shall send its sons and daughters to fight and die. They do not like that.”

Arianne snorted then and said. “SO they would rather fight alongside a man who would gladly see them and theirs reduced to nothing more than common peasants, simply to preserve themselves? Something that I am already working hard to do.”

Alor nodded and then said. “Though there might be one possible bright spark. A friend of King Aegon’s at court has written to us to say that aid is fast coming to help us against the Redwynes and should we need any more assistance we need only ask.”

Arianne looks at her husband and asks. “Who is this friend of King Aegon’s? As far as I was aware there was none of King Maekar’s court left when the black dragon came and took it. They were either killed or fled. So who is this man husband?”

Alor is silent a moment and says simply. “I know not Arianne. He never writes his name. He merely says he is a friend of Aegon’s and thus a friend of Dorne’s. I do not ask and he does not tell. But all he has said so far has come true, I have no reason to doubt what he says.”

Doran speaks then. “We must needs be careful over what we take as true from him though. And we must wait and see, what aid does come. The royal fleet is either broken or missing, and the Velaryon fleet belongs to the Black Dragon. The only other aid could be the Ironborn and they have no reason to aid us.”

Arianne runs a hand through her hair and sighs. “Aye, that we must do. Though perhaps sending word to Quellon Greyjoy might not be such a bad idea. An alliance and some terms to bring this about might wet his appetite to destroying the Redwyne Fleet for us.”

Both her husband and her brother look at her and then Doran asks “Are you sure that is wise? The Ironborn are loathed from here to the wall. Allying with them could make many of our lords question whether you have lost your sanity or not Arianne.”

“Let them,” Arianne says. “This alliance might be the only thing that saves us from burning due to pirates.”

Alor speaks then. “And what pray tell could you offer a man such as Quellon Greyjoy in this alliance that would make him see it as worth wile in the first place?”

Arianne smiles then and says. “Why a marriage of course.”


	19. Ours is The Fury

**Fourth Month of 236 A.L. Storm’s End**

**Lord Robar Baratheon.**

The thought of the roses getting their hands on Storm’s End angered Robar beyond words. Robar was not a man who was quick to anger, but he felt that the roses did not deserve his daughter nor did they deserve his home. They were nothing more than up jumped stewards who had changed their allegiance the minute it had benefitted them, and Robar despised them for it. Lord Otto Tyrell was an oaf, a man who would been put down the minute Robar thought of what to do. At least the man’s son Willas was a decent sort, smart and kind, he was a knight but did not seem all that good with a sword, then again very few could stand against Robar with his hammer in hand. That the man was kind to his daughter was all that truly mattered to Robar, for if the man had not been kind he would have seen to it that he floated to the bottom of Shipbreaker’s Bay. But the lad was kind and smart, and made his daughter happy, and Robar felt bad that he was plotting to destroy the lad’s family.

Lords Caron, Estermont, Dondarrion, Swann, Connington and Tarth had come to Storm’s End to speak with Robar, under the pretence of doing something about the Dornish but in actual fact to speak of how they would remove the roses from their lands. Robar spoke first. “My lords, I thank you all for coming. Winter has gone and summer is here, and with it we shall have our freedom once more. The roses are beginning to over exert themselves, and with the Redwyne Fleet engaged in combat with the Ironborn on the Dornish coast, I do believe now might be the perfect opportunity to strike. Lord Caron what news have you got for us, on how the Dornish are doing?”

Lord Caron was a big man and smart, he spoke then. “The Dornish forces under the command of Doran Martell are mustering in the Boneway as we speak and shall be marching towards the Reach for another offensive. Furthermore, Ser Alor Blackmont is gathering another host, with which he means to use to fight the Redwyne fleet and any men they bring to shore.”

“Princess Arianne it seems is resorting to desperate measures. If she has indeed agreed to see Quellon Greyjoy’s son wed to her daughter and heir, then perhaps it is time we considered changing our thought process.” Lord Swann said.

“You would have us support the black dragon then? When we know full well that having a Tyrell at Storm’s End could mean for us all?” Lord Connington asked, his voice dripping with scorn.

“I would have us do what would be needed of any good lord, to ensure that our people and land remain safe. If we are to fight, we must know who to count on, and as such I do not think Dorne can be relied upon as much anymore. After all we all know what the Ironborn are like, and I do not believe they should be trusted.” Lord Swann countered.

“I agree with Lord Swann,” Lord Dondarrion said. “The Ironborn have allied themselves with Dorne, and who knows that the terms of that alliance were? We might be staring at another set of raids and another House Hoare situation here. Perhaps we might needs to declare ourselves free from the throne and look to Tyrell to see if he will give us a life line.”

Robar’s uncle, Lord Edwyn Tarth snorted then and said. “Craven, the lot of you sound like cravens. So what if Arianne Martell has allied with the Ironborn? We can benefit from this alliance. Ally with them and we can have the Tyrells beaten at sea and cut off from their reserves on land. And we can have a three way kingdom, and make the throne bleed.”

Robar liked the sound of that, but there was one thing that was nagging at the back of his mind. “If we were to become independent I do believe that we would need more than just Dorne and the Islands to aid us, we would need the Crownlands as well, and they are always under the throne’s control. Besides, we have sworn ourselves to the Targaryens, we cannot go back on our word to them, and we cannot declare independence without the other lords and smallfolk rising up against us should we declare for them when they do eventually land.”

His uncle spoke up then. “Do we even know if they plan on landing and reclaiming the throne? As far as we know Prince Aegon spends his days in Pentos plotting and doing not much else. Whilst Prince Duncan fights as a sellsword and earns some sort of money, and rejects offers of marriage from houses in the crownlands and from Pentoshi nobles. Meanwhile, Volantis begins stirring and making overtures towards the Targaryens. How do we know they will even bother returning?”

Lord Connington speaks then. “They must return. Prince Aegon is not the sort of man to allow something to go undone. He wants the throne, as he will see it as a way to set right what was done wrong, and he will want his daughter back. That in itself will be enough incentive to bring them back, be it with a sellsword army or with our own swords at their backs. And besides, the throne is levying heavier taxes to pay for their war with Dorne. Sooner or later lords will rebel and we shall have our chance.”

“How many houses still remain loyal to the red dragon? All the other great houses seemed to have forgotten how they got so prosperous in the first place. Perhaps we might as well try and bring the Tyrells down ourselves and go from there?” Robar asks.

His uncle speaks then. “How do you propose we do that then my lord?”

Robar smiles then and says. “Well, soon enough the Tyrells themselves shall be here. It will be simple to deal with them, one by one.”

* * *

 

**Seventh Month of 236 A.L. Winterfell**

**Lord Brandon Stark**

Peace in the north, summer was here and peace had come, and Brandon could not have been happier. Finally there was a chance for him to enjoy sometime at home in Winterfell with his wife and children. Jeyne, oh how he had come to rely on her, she was his strong right hand, and he thought he might be very fond of her, not in love but very fond of her, he was finally over Melantha and together he and Jeyne were making Winterfell and the north strong again. Their children, were growing up quickly. Arthur, their eldest son and child, was a strong willed child though he could be very quiet at times, he could also be very talkative, and he was also very observant about many things. Sansa their eldest daughter was a quiet child, and was very polite and would be the perfect Queen when her time came. Benjen was a wild child, always gallivanting about the place and climbing the walls even though he was barely out of swaddling, then there was Rickon their third child who was silent as a shadow until provoked. And then there was Brandon’s niece Serena who would one day be wed to Arthur, she reminded Brandon a lot of Donnor, with her quiet manner and strong mindedness.

Donnor’s ghost hung heavy over Brandon and everything he did, there were times when Brandon wished he could simply have allowed his brother to live and give him the responsibilities that weighed down on him like a hammer, and there were other times when Brandon swore a bloody vengeance to his brother’s ghost. And of course there was the fact that the mountain clans had sworn their allegiance to Donnor’s boy, and recognised him as Lord of the Northern Mountain Clans, something that Brandon found both useful and frustrating at the same time. Useful as it meant that the mountain clans would now be better organised in dealing with the wildlings should they ever pose a serious threat, and frustrating as it meant the boy was now very powerful and should he chose to do so could very well threaten Brandon and his children and their right to Winterfell. Gods he knew not what to do.

Of course there were other worries that Brandon had now, and as such he had called a council of his lords together. Lord Hoarfrost Umber, Lord Artos Dustin, Lord Brandon Ryswell, Lord Rickard Bolton and his brother Rodrik. “Thank you for coming my lords,” Brandon began. “Since the civil war and the war in the south have ended, the north has seen in summer and with it peace. I mean to ensure that the north never again faces a war similar to the one that plagued us for three years. And as such my heir Arthur shall wed Serena Stark, my brother Donnor’s eldest daughter. As for Donnor’s boy, well he has been confirmed as Lord of the Northern Mountains, and so long as he or his advisors never try and usurp my or mine heirs positions in charge of Winterfell and the north, he and his heirs are welcome to their castle and stronghold. As for Edwyle, the boy will soon be heading north to join the Night’s Watch and as such shall do so willingly. Now, Lord Umber, how are things looking to the north?”

Hoarfrost was silent a moment and then said. “Well my lord. The wildlings are not crossing the wall in any significant numbers, and those that do cross are being thrown back or captured and questioned. They shall not be uniting behind the Red Raven anytime soon, and as such we should expect no trouble from them for some time.”

Brandon and then said. “That is good, still I want the patrols near the gift and your border lands to continue. Now we must turn southwards. There has been word from the King, it appears that he means to go through with his war with Dorne and has asked us to send men southward. The question how many men to send and who should command them?”

His men all began speaking at once, but Brandon held up his hand and nodded to Lord Rickard Bolton who spoke softly. “My lord, I believe sending as little men as possible southward would be the best possible option. After all it would mean we still have enough strength in our own lands should the Ironborn turn their attention north, and it would also mean that the King cannot complain. I would say around 3,000 men be sent southward under someone you trust implicitly.”

“I agree with Lord Bolton.” Lord Dustin says. “We have paid enough in corpses for the wars these southerners have waged. I say send as few men as possible, and send someone who you can trust to know when we should retreat.”

Brandon was silent a moment and then said. “Very well. I agree that we’ve had enough of having all of our men brought to the southern hells. I believe now is the time we make a break from the south, but not in terms of freedom, more in terms of how many men we send to die there. 3,000 men shall head south under the command of my brother Rodrik and you Lord Rickard. Head south towards Riverrun where you shall meet with Lord Tully’s host and remember, act as though you were fighting to preserve yourselves, I want no word of slaughter or northmen.”

Both men nod and then Brandon asks. “Now how likely, Lord Flint do you believe it that an Ironborn invasion could occur?”

Lord Flint was silent a moment and then said. “I believe it is possible. Lord Quellon seeks revenge for the death of his father and brothers, and we know Lord Beron, your own father was the one to wreak havoc on the Greyjoys last time. I would not be surprised if his eyes turn north once the fighting in the south is done.”

Brandon nods and says. “Then we must be well prepared to throw the kraken back into the sea.”


	20. Battle

**Tenth Month of 236 A.L.: Prince’s Pass**

**Ser Doran Martell**

By gods it was hot, so very, very hot. Dorne was notorious for being swelteringly hot during the summer, and as such this summer was no exception, if anything Doran thought that perhaps this might have been the hottest summer he had ever lived through. The sand in the Prince’s Pass seemed to be scorching as they walked around in their boots and other clothing. It made him wish for the cool air and breeze of the Water Gardens, and the laughter of the children, his own son Manfrey would have turned five sometime ago, and oh how he wished he could be back there to witness his son growing up. Of course, he could not for with Dorne still independent the boy on the Iron Throne had decided that to try and replicate the Young Dragon and conquer Dorne through force. The boy was learning the hard way that, that was not how things were done. The Redwyne Fleet had been smashed by the Iron Fleet, and then forced to retreat once more ships from the Iron Islands began destroying the Arbor and the Reach, their alliance secured with the betrothal of Princess Elia and Harlon Greyjoy. There had been skirmishes in the Boneway and the pass, between forces commanded by Doran and forces commanded by Lord Otto Tyrell and Ser Aegor Rivers, Tyrell was dead and his heir captured, Rivers had retreated but there would be more attacks coming of that Doran was sure.

“The Westerosi have just had their numbers bolstered. Northmen and Riverlanders have added their numbers to Baelon Blackfyre’s ranks. Our scouts report that they mean to try and make another attempt and breaking through the defences.” Ser Alric Dayne says.

“How many men do they now have?” Doran asks.

“Some 40,000. Many from the Riverlands and the Westerlands. Ser Loras Tyrell has taken men to the Stormlands to deal with the rebels there, and as such there are other problems happening in the Reach with the Ironborn raiding up and down their coast. The men from the Vale and the Crownlands sailed on the royal fleet and are causing trouble for Ser Alor but apart from that there is not much else.” Ser Alric replies.

“Have we been able to identify where the Blackfyre boy is?” Doran asked.

Lord Elton Blackmont speaks then. “Well we now know that he is not with the host that is assaulting us here at the Pass. No the man is most likely with the royal fleet. Ser Aegor will most likely be the one to command the host that marches through once more.”

“And we know this for a fact?” Doran asks. “This is not just another false trail put about by whoever it is that is working for the false king within our army?”

“Yes my prince.” Lord Blackmont replies. “I do believe that this time, we have found enough proof to suggest that this is going to be the final push before anything else happens.”

Doran nods. “Very well then. Lord Blackmont I want you to take the left of the host and lead whatever Westerosi you find on a merry chase through the passes and the mountains. Let them smash themselves on the mountains and the boulders. Ser Alric, you shall command the van, take the flank and break it against the roost and make sure to take prisoners if you can. I shall command the centre. And you Lord Yronwood, shall command the reserve and come behind me and reinforce me should I need any assistance.” The men in question nod and then Doran asks. “Now has there been word from the coast? What has been happening there?”

Lord Yronwood speaks then. “There was word from Ser Alor. It appears that the Velaryon fleet has been beaten by the storms and Ghaston Grey itself. And as such it does appear as if the Blackfyre boy is marching men from the Marches and taking them by boat into the coastal areas. Soon enough we should have the man trapped.”

Doran nods and then dismisses the council. Soon enough he is dressed in his orange armour, his helm atop his head, waiting and listening to the sounds of the men riding out to battle. When the horn sounds and a roar is heard, Doran draws his sword and raises it high into the air and then leads the charge. They meet the host of Riverlanders in a clash of steel on steel and the frenzy of battle. Doran swings his sword, left, right and centre, bringing it down on men left and right, cutting through them like light to the flies. Swinging, hacking and slashing, soon enough his sword is dripping with blood, his armour is caked in dirt and mud, and sweat pours off his brow. He pushes on swinging and hacking, swinging and hacking, cutting men down to size. He takes a few blows of his own, blows that leave his arms shaking and aching, and leave dents in his armour, blood trickling down from them. Still he pushes on.

He swings and hacks, swings and hacks, cutting down men left and right. Swinging and hacking, the roar of battle echoes around him, he’s now fighting northmen. Their blows are more savage and he can feel his strength beginning to leave him, and yet still he pushes on. Swinging and hacking and cutting and blocking and feeling pain upon pain. Still; he pushes on swinging and hacking, he tears a man’s head in two and then gets struck just above his heart and for a moment he fears that that is it. But then he spears the man in the chest and pushes on. He and his men have cut through the northmen now and he orders them to turn around and find new sources of battle, when he sees the white of the Kingsguard he pushes on and cuts through men. Swinging like a mad man to reach Bittersteel and perhaps end this war once and for all. He falls prey to his wounds before he can do such a thing, dragged down by a loss of blood and fatigue.

* * *

 

**2 nd Month of 237 A.L. Massey’s Hook**

**Prince Aegon Targaryen**

His sons were men grown now, Duncan twenty and Jaehaerys fourteen, Aelix had just turned eight, but he too would grow up one day. Duncan had wed Eleanor Rosby before they had set sail and as such the match whilst not what Aegon would have wanted had provided them with some allies in Westeros, mainly House Rosby and other crownlanders houses that had always preferred the red to the black dragon. Jaehaerys had wed a daughter of the Magister Serron, a girl named Serra and as such was quite in love with her if Rhae was to be believed, as for Aelix well the boy was squiring for his brother and as such was silent and quiet most of the time now. All in all Aegon was quite proud of how is boys were doing, he merely hoped that he could say the same for his daughter.

Their allies in Westeros were not as great as he had hoped they would be, it appeared the great houses were either too committed to the Blackfyre cause, or were facing their own inner problems to help their true rulers return. And as such Aegon had had to rely on the lords of the Crownlands to aid him, they had sent very little support to aid Baelon Blackfyre in Dorne, something that Aegon knew he had his daughter to thank for. And as such when he had landed at Massey’s Hook, he had been greeted by Ser Adam Rosby, Lord Denys Darklyn, Lord Barros Celtigar and others. In all they had brought some 10,000 men with them, and whilst it was not enough to actually do anything significant, it was enough to cause worry. And so Aegon had sent them out in their hundreds to go about recruiting more men to the cause and to cause havoc on Blackfyre loyalists. The chaos in Dorne, had also attracted support from Lord Robar Baratheon who had finally managed to rid himself of Willas Tyrell, and had now openly declared for Aegon and marched with some 6,000 men to the Hook.

Sighing he drank some water and hoped to gods that the heat would end soon. “Well my lords. We’ve been here for some two weeks now, and still there has been no word on whether or Baelon Blackfyre is moving from Dorne to here. If our plan is to work he must needs move. So what has been keeping him?”

Lord Darklyn speaks then. “It would appear that the Dornish have been putting up a great deal more fight than we first thought Your Grace. After Ser Doran was killed, it appears his cousin Allem took up the charge and managed to break through the Blackfyre ranks and managed to capture Bittersteel. And since then it appears Baelon Blackfyre has been dithering over what to do. His lords have been giving him different advice and some of them have even begun fearing what will happen should the Ironborn turn their eyes towards their territories.”

“So the man has been crippled by an inability to act. Perhaps we are finally seeing who it was who ran things for the Blackfyres.” Lord Celtigar says. “After all was it not Haegon Blackfyre who led things during the last war we fought with the Blackfyres?”

“It changes nothing.” Aegon says his voice like iron. “We must needs have Blackfyre brought towards Massey’s Hook and we must have him taken away from the bulk of his host, otherwise the plan shall not work.”

Lord Robar speaks then. “Well Your Grace, if I might voice a thought or two.” He pauses and Aegon nods for him to continue. “There will be only one way to lure a green boy such as Baelon Blackfyre out into the open, and that is to send a force of men out to tempt him into doing such a thing. Otherwise we shall be left scratching our heads for the next several months.”

Aegon looks at the man and then asks. “And who would you suggest for this job my lord?”

Lord Robar is silent for a moment and then says. “I would go and take this usurper on a merry little chase. The boy has cost me and my people much during his reign and I do believe now is the time to end it all and bring the hammer of justice down upon him.”

Aegon is silent a moment and then says. “Well, if no one has any complaints about this then I do believe that Lord Robar and his men should be the ones to tempt Blackfyre out from wherever it is he is hiding.” With that he dismisses the council meeting but keeps Lord Rosby and Duncan present. Once the lords have left he speaks up. “Did you take notes of the lords reactions Duncan?” When his son nods he asks. “And who do you think was the rat?”

“Darklyn seemed more loyal than his father had, but there was also a sense of over eagerness on his part. And there has been talk for some time that the man means to have his own daughter wed Viserys Blackfyre. I do believe that he is the man.” Duncan says.

Aegon nods and then says. “Aye, the man was too eager by half to make it look like he had not thought about all potential plots and ploys he could work into this council. And that he was the one who suggested the plan in the first place, makes me think that he is truly wanting something bad to happen.”

“But then are you going to stick to the plan, if you suspect that something might go very awry with it?” Lord Rosby asks.

Aegon shakes his head and says simply. “No, changes have been made and arrangements have also been made. Darklyn shall be shoved into the darkness the minute battle begins and then we can see where his allegiance truly lies.”

“And what of Osgrey?” Duncan asks. “Will he be joining us?”

Aegon nods and says. “Aye with his strength, all of it.”


	21. Innocence

**Fifth Month of 237 A.L. Massey’s Hook**

**King Baelon I Blackfyre**

War, that was all Baelon had known as a child growing up, fighting, moving from one place to another. It was second nature to him by now, and so when he had decided that fighting to reclaim Dorne was the best option and his council had agreed some small part of him had been relieved, after all the peace was beginning to drive him a bit stir crazy. Dorne had been a challenge, he had read about the Conquest of Dorne and then he had read the true accounts of it all and so he knew that it would be challenging. What he had not expected was just how the divisions in the rest of Westeros would hinder their progress. Robar Baratheon had had Willas Tyrell killed after learning the man had done his duty and gotten Robar’s daughter pregnant, that had caused Otto Tyrell to send his son Loras and a small force of reachmen to the Stormlands, but they had been beaten back and then the Ironborn had invaded the Reach and the Reach had to move out at full force. That had dented Baelon’s progress somewhat, and then there had been the capture and later death of the one man Baelon considered to be a true father to him, Ser Aegor Rivers, the hand of the king and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had led the charge at the battle of the yellow sands, and had paid for it with his life. That had significantly reduced their chances. Baelon had been warring on the coast doing lightening raids and had even managed to kill Ser Alor Blackmont the consort to the Princess of Dorne.

But then they had had to pull back for the Targaryens had invaded and had set up shop in Massey’s Hook. The lords of the crownlands had sworn their allegiance to Aegon Targaryen, and then they had set a trap. Baelon had learnt about it from Lord Darklyn and so had not fallen for it, instead he had sent the remaining northmen under the command of one Ser Edwyn Tallhart out to fight the force, and they had been butchered but Robar Baratheon had been killed and his own force of Stormlords broken. After that Baelon had led his men towards Massey’s Hook fighting Stormlords and other Targaryen forces as he went, eventually breaking them apart and setting up shop just south of the Westword Bridge, the bridge that connected the Hook together. On the other side of the bridge was where the Targaryens were camped. And Baelon had called a council to discuss the best methods to draw them out.  “We cannot expect them to be lulled into a second false trap. After all Darklyn is dead by now, and Aegon Targaryen will be more alert than ever.” Baelon surmised.

“Perhaps it might do to have them drawn over the bridge through the ability to talk about terms?” Lord Matthew Tarbeck asked.

“And do what?” Baelon questioned. “Draw them there and then fire on them in multiple choices? That is not an honourable course of action.”

Lord Gerold Lannister laughed then and said. “Your Grace, this is war. There is no room for honourable action now. We must bring them over that bridge with as minimal risk to our own forces as possible. Asking them to discuss terms is the best way to do that.”

“It makes sense Your Grace,” Jasper Arryn said. “Aegon Targaryen will know that his force is nowhere big enough to be able to significantly deal with our own. He will be desperate to discuss peace and terms. The question is what these terms should be.”

Baelon was silent for a moment and then said. “I could give him the Stepstones, or perhaps Dragonstone. In return for him accepting being properly attainted of all rights to any holdings that the family has previously held before. He would need to formally acknowledge this, and his son Duncan would need to take the black. That boy will cause trouble.”

“You should also ask for his third son Aelix as a hostage.” Jasper Arryn said.

Baelon nodded and the war council came to a close. The next day riders had been sent to ask for a discussion, but they came back empty handed, Aegon Targaryen would not meet with them it seemed. And just as Baelon was about to turn his horse round and prepare for war proper, horses seemed to be galloping across the bridge, Targaryen horses. It seemed Aegon Targaryen meant to give battle. Baelon roared for his archers to fire, and so they did and Baelon watched as the initial wave of riders began to fall of their horses and into the water. Soon enough though more riders were making it across the bridge than not, and Baelon found himself drawn into battle. He hacked and slashed his way through the men, his sword began dripping red with blood, and soon enough there were more men littering the ground as dead bodies than as actual beings.

The torrent of arrow fire continued as Baelon swung his sword left, right and centre cutting down men left and right. He took a few blows himself but mostly kept pushing forwards watching as arrows rained down on the Targaryen men. He began laughing manically as things progressed, the battle lust taking over, on it went. He met a tall strong man whom he would later learn was Prince Duncan Targaryen. They met in a hurl of steel and sparks and after what seemed many hours, sparring, hacking an slashing at one another, Baelon ducked feinted and then speared his sword into a gap between helmet and breastplate and killed Duncan Targaryen.

The battle raged on for several more hours and at its conclusion, Baelon and his men were bloodied and worn, and the Targaryens were covering the bridge, their bodies and blood blocking movement. Amongst the dead, Baelon had found Aegon Targaryen, his hair silver and his eyes purple, his body covered with arrows and wounds. Two Targaryens dead two more alive in Pentos, he gestured towards the body and as one of the Kingsguard held the body up he raised his sword and severed the head. Deciding to take it back to King’s Landing.

\----------

**Seventh Month of 237 A.L.: King’s Landing**

**Queen Rhaelle Blackfyre**

War a terrible thing and something men seemed to revel in, something she would never understand. There had been very few reports of what her husband had been doing since he had left Dorne, though she knew Dorne was still free and independent, and that gave her some hope. She knew her father and brother had landed in Massey’s Hook and had been causing chaos amongst Blackfyre loyalists, and that gave her more heart. It also gave her cause for concern, for she knew what would happen should her father and brother succeed, her sons Viserys and Jaehaerys would see their lives forfeit, and that was something she did not know if she could survive. She might not love her husband, she was not even truly fond of him, but she loved their two boys more than anything else in the world, and the thought of them not surviving this war terrified her more than anything else.

Her two boys were her world, Viserys had just turned three and was so delightful, brash and wild, he caused havoc in the Red Keep and charmed everyone wherever he went, he reminded Rhaelle of what Duncan had been like as a child. Jaehaerys was just like his namesake and uncle, quiet and reserved but very, very clever even for a baby of one year old, he had already figured out certain things that his brother had struggled with at that age. Rhaelle loved her boys dearly, she only wished she could feel something other than pure loathing for her husband. She had tried for the good of their boys, had tried to see past the fact that the man she was wed to was an usurper and a liar, but she could not and it hurt her that she could not. Perhaps he would be better now that Ser Aegor was gone and his poisonous influence could not ruin what she knew her husband had, a good heart.

“Your Grace?” Ser Tion Lannister’s voice took her away from her thoughts. She turned round and looked at the man. “The king will be arriving shortly.”

Rhaelle nodded and stood up, going to pick up Jaehaerys from his cradle and walking with Viserys hand in hers, her son babbled excitedly about all he had done so far, and she cooed and awed in all the right places. Eventually when they got to the steps of the entrance to the Red Keep her boy fell silent and they waited. Soon enough her husband and his men came into view, her husband was dressed in black as night armour, which was caked in blood and dirt. He stopped his horse before her and their sons and dismounted, he kissed her hand and said. “My queen, you look dashing as always.” Rhaelle curtseyed. And her husband turned his attention to their sons. He ruffled Viserys hair and kissed Jaehaerys cheek and then he turned back to her and said aloud. “My people, it gives me great pleasure to tell you that the false pretender Aegon Targaryen and his son Duncan Targaryen are dead. Those traitors who supported them are also dead.” A loud cheer goes up at her husband’s words, but Rhaelle simply feels numb. Her husband looks at her briefly and then says aloud. “We shall celebrate long and hard tonight, but first I must get changed so I can reward all those who fought bravely.”

Later that night when the feasting is done she is in her husband’s chambers and he is looking at her, and she is looking at him and then she asks. “Did you do it?”

“Did I do what my lady?” Baelon asks.

She glares at him then and snaps. “You know perfectly well what I mean. Did you kill my father and brother?”

Her husband sighs and says. “It was war my lady. Men die all the time. Your father and brother were fighting for what they believed in and they died for it. In a way yes, I suppose you could say I did kill them, for they were killed on my orders.”

Rhaelle shakes her head. “That is not what I asked. I asked if you personally killed them.”

“What difference does it make, whether I killed them personally or not? They are dead all the same.” Baelon says.

“It matters to me!” Rhaelle shouts. And she realises it does, somewhere, somehow what her husband did has come to matter a great deal to her.

Her husband is silent for a long moment and then he says. “Then no, I did not kill them personally. Duncan was dead when I found him, and your father was killed by archers. I was fighting other men.”

Rhaelle nods and then she says. “What will you do about Dorne now that my father and brother are dead?”

Her husband sighs once more and says. “I know not. Some of my lords want me to wage war on Dorne straight away, others argue for waiting and biding my time. Princess Arianne is not in the best of health and her heir is only a little girl. Sooner or later the woman must die and that might be the best time to regain Dorne. I am inclined to agree with them.”

Rhaelle nods and then asks. “And what of my brothers who remain across the sea? Will you hunt them down then?”

Baelon sighs and shakes his head. “I know not what I am going to do about them. I do believe that should your brother Jaehaerys be willing to listen, the offer I would have made to your father will still stand. If not then I think either permanent exile or more war will follow.”

Rhaelle nods and then says. “Perhaps you could help him set up in Pentos. After all, it would be a good way to heal the rift between our two families.”

Baelon merely nods and says. “I shall think about it.”


	22. Goodbye

****

**Maester’s Summary**

After the death of Aegon and Duncan Targaryen, peace returned in some form to Westeros. Through one small lie, King Baelon managed to develop some sort of relationship with his wife Rhaelle, and though it might not have been the stuff of songs, it formed into a good working relationship, one that put to rest the thoughts of any lurking Targaryen loyalists that they might win the Queen’s favour and remove her husband from the throne. Together, King and Queen had three more children, Prince Aegor named after the man Baelon considered his true father, Princess Rhae named after the Queen’s mother and finally Prince Aelyx. King Baelon reigned for thirty years, and in that time brought peace and prosperity to the realm, ensuring trade with the free cities reached an all time high, and trade within the kingdoms continued and grew. His heir, Prince Viserys grew into a strapping young man, charming and smart, and someone who charmed all who met him, a bright future for the Blackfyre dynasty, he wed Sansa Stark the daughter of Lord Brandon Stark and with her had had three children by the time King Baelon had died. Prince Jaehaerys joined the Kingsguard and served honourably and with much distinction, Prince Aegor joined the small council of his father and served with much dignity. Princess Alysanne was wed to Lord Tyland Lannister and Prince Aelyx wed Lady Marian Rowan and established a princedom within Goldengrove.

As for the Targaryens across the narrow sea, Prince Jaehaerys deciding that there was nothing left for them in Westeros, decided that he would rather become King in Pentos, and so had the magisters of the city slaughtered in what became known as the night of the thousand deaths. Once that was done, he and his followers established a royal court within Pentos, and soon began establishing trade with all the free cities of note. King Jaehaerys ruled for some twenty years before he succumbed to his frail health. His son Prince Aerys ascended the throne shortly after him and ensured that his father’s legacy continued.

House Stark, the Great House that had provided the King with his shelter during the early days of his invasion, finally saw peace. Brandon Stark the winner of the war of the wolves reigned as Lord of Winterfell until he was sixty years old whereby he died from a chill. His children, Arthur, Sansa, Benjen, Rickon and finally Alysanne continued on his legacy and ensured peace and prosperity for the north as a whole. Arthur, his heir was a grim and solemn man but a man who knew his honour and duty, and inspired respect and admiration amongst his vassals, he wed Serena Stark his cousin when he turned sixteen. His sister Sansa wed Prince Viserys, a marriage that ensured that the north always had a voice at court.

House Arryn, led by Jasper Arryn had an increased presence at court, especially once Jasper was named hand of the king. They benefitted from trade contracts and the best deals with the merchant princes of the free cities. Jasper, had three children, Jon his heir became a squire to King Baelon, Alys was wed to a powerful Arryn bannerman Elys Waynwood, his youngest son and child Ronnel became a famous knight and in his sixteenth year was raised to the Kingsguard, bringing further glory to the Arryn family.

House Tully, the house that was often scorned by the other great houses, grew in prestige and prosperity during the reign of King Baelon. Lord Lyonel Tully, a shrewd and smart man made many matches to other great houses to secure his boundaries and ensure that Tully blood would sit on the thrones of many other kingdoms in years to come. And when the Ironborn began causing trouble towards the end of King Baelon’s reign it was Lord Lyonel and House Tully who smashed Quellon Greyjoy on the shores of Seagard, and sent the Kraken packing.

House Lannister saw its own fair share of trouble. When lord Gerold died in 243 A.L., the Reynes and Tarbecks began growing in dissent, but Lord Tyland’s smooth political skill managed to smooth things over before they began to boil. The Ironborn though became a frequent problem for the Ironborn, raiding and taking as they pleased, but when Lord Tyland called his banners and prepared for war, Quellon Greyjoy halted his raiding and retreated back to Pyke. It was a Lannister- Tully host that smashed Quellon and his men at Seagard and it was Tyland Lannister who took home the honour of killing Quellon Greyjoy himself.

The Tyrells, were tasked with guarding the southern borders of the kingdom against possible Dornish incursions. Lord Matthis Tyrell spent much of his time between Highgarden and the border castles set up along the Boneway and the Dornish border. Conflict happened once, in 255 A.L. and it was a short and bloody thing ending with Matthis’ head on a spike and the potential for full blown war had King Baelon not stepped in and decided things would end with a marriage and a consolidation, and that was what happened between Houses Tyrell and Martell.

Finally, House Martell independent following King Baelon’s crowning, dealt mainly with the Free cities and saw trade and commerce boom. Princess Arianne ruled well and long, and when her daughter Princess Elia took over Dorne was secure and stable. However, there was a long uncertainty over whether or not they should rejoin Westeros, what with the Targaryens having lost interest in the Iron Thorne, eventually a detente was reached and things cooled down enough for talks to begin.


End file.
